Well, this really takes me back.
Back to the days when large denim over-all sportin black men with a pawn-shop full neck of gold necklaces would come to the playground and ask us to sit very very close to him.
Especially little Alan on the bottom. He used to sit very very VERY close to him.
Of course there were always the kids he locked our of the the school yard who would climb the fence and beg to be let in.
Then he would tell us his ‘commandments’.
“Thou shalt never match your socks.”
We smiled because he told us to.
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we smiled caused we were scared to death…and cause little alan’s head was so close to…
Ha- lair- ee- us. My brain had already picked up on all the things you pointed out: it’s just that MOST people let those momentary observations go and don’t mention them. Most people.
That’s why little Alan wears a hard hat.
I could totally see why he didn’t let those punks in.
You know, I heard Mr. T has a glass jaw. One good punch and he’s down like a baby.
I nominate Marcy to try first.