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Pink Lipstick
by Kevin

 

When you live in a part of the world with the climate conditions of Pennsylvania, summer extending into November with temperatures consistently remaining above 60 degrees are the types of things grim portents and dire prophecies containing dragons and fierce eldritch creatures are made of. A certain local businessman who assures you not merely the vast majority, but indeed the entirety of his wares are guaranteed to satisfy has taken advantage of the Indian Summer to continue peddling his goods and services long into when people typically recoil from frozen delights. He spends hours of the late afternoon circling my block while playing his little tune loud enough that my subconscious becomes a 24 hour radio station playing various artist’s interpretations of Turkey in the Straw. The Simon and Garfunkel version my imagination created is really something else. It becomes virtually unbearable when he parks outside my house to conduct transactions. I harbor him no ill will, but it’d be nice if he could turn the volume down a little when I’m trying to watch my stories.

-Kevin