Style No. 47: Provocative

Standard

“Excuse me, is that a whistle you’re blowing?”

“No, it’s a nuclear launch key.”

“Forgive me.”

“If you’re looking for something to blow on, I think I might have something.”

“That’s quite alright.” The young boy’s friend, who’d been eyeing the crowd in the distance, now looked my way and snickered, tightening the grip of his arm on my verbal assailant. I spun around to leave, their bright orange insolence burning a hole in my dignity.

Just then I spotted something unusual. “Ma’am, I’m curious. May I ask what that is atop your head?”

At which point I was whacked in the face with a purse. Grandmothers aren’t what they used to be.

I’m not ashamed to admit, I nearly shed a tear. My lower lids were well a-quiver. If it wasn’t for something else that caught my attention, I might’ve broken down on the spot. God bless that curious gentleman and his knowing gaze! And though I didn’t dare ask, considering all that had happened, I did wonder — why was he looking the other way?

Well, what did you think it was? A tunnel to the centre of the earth? (Clicked this in Paris, 2011.)

Well, what did you think it was? A tunnel to the centre of the earth? (Clicked this in Paris, 2011.)

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