I walked into Township Cleaners and got in line behind Elvis.
There he was in the flesh, over-fleshed, his underwear revealed through the white rayon dancing pants. Two large buns, held in check by Fruit of the Loom skivvies, were parked underneath his wide waist, demarcated by a thick black belt.
Elvis was about 65 years old and as my perfume Jadore diffused his way, he looked back at me and smiled.
“Well, hellooooo, sweetheart.”
“Hi Elvis.”
The line was slow; he looked down, thinking of his next move. It was no pelvic thrust. Instead his eyes, moved to my feet.
” Has anyone ever told you, Sweetheart, that you have two of the cutest feet in the world?”
Oh my God, I thought. Not only is this loser an Elvis impersonator, but he has a foot fetish as well.
How come Madonna impersonators aren’t hitting on my feet?
You are young.
That’s why.
Jesus H. WordPress!!!
I love the new lay out.