I came out of a hole in the metropolis the other day to find that my tailor’s shop had been completely gutted by fire. “But what?!”, I thought. “I just gave him 100 000 dollars a week ago as a down payment on a soup jacket!”
It’s definitely not good news, but I’m sure the joint’s insured. Although all those photos of him and whitey businessmen and senators won’t be rematerialising again anytime soon. I was getting measured for it and deciding the specs. He’d say things like, “double breasted or single, two buttons or three, two flaps at the side or one at the back?” and each time I’d think ‘what’s normal?’ and try and go with that. I was hitting the mark because he’d say, ‘yes, conservative’. But there was this parallel visualistion of what the other would look like — and I’d really like to try it one day, but then I’d have to wear one of those frilly scarves and a yacht captain’s hat too.
Sadly, the genuine hair club hairshop next door was obliterated also. Infact I think it started there. I used to go there because they spoke english and it’s so much easier than learning how to say, “one length all over!” which I never get anyway. Hairshop means hair dressers.
Oh and before I forget it, Happy Apple day!
Apparently they’re saying things like, “let’s make up”. “Let’s kiss”, and it gets more lurid from there; things you’d never imagine apples doing to eachother.