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The haberdashery, act I

Taunted on March 5, 2006.

I flopped on by Mr. Thaddeus C.L. Harshbarger’s haberdashery on Wednesday, inquiring as to whether or not he would like to take on an apprentice. He said no. So I begged him, and pleaded with him, and taunted him over his bald spot, and finally he said, “Hell no.”

So I left, again dejected after having been rejected, and physically ejected, on the point of a spear that Mr. Harshbarger, the haberdasher, keeps for just the occasion (ejecting people from his haberdashery). I went over to the Ham & Eggs again and ordered a ham-and-egg sandwich, three oranges, and a glass of orange juice—an empty glass of orange juice; I planned to squeeze the oranges myself. The waitress told me the cornpones were very good this time of year; I ordered 46¾ golden cornpones and 23 silver ones, and ate them all in front of her and the moose she rode in on.

“Great Custer’s Ghost!” I shouted as I awoke this morning, remembering that it was once again the day to update my festering pile of a website, lest the website police pay me a visit and slap me silly for not updating it. I updated it while wearing my new homburg (let’s see if those damned gnomes steal this hat!) and sitting atop my isosceles valise. The update went well, and when I finished, I only had to disinfect my computer of a mere three viruses this time, not the usual seven or eight.

I hate the Internet.