Lolita." The blossoming boyman had taken a hat in the nuts. And as he regained his composure in a full spectrum of color face he grabbed the item to be inventoried and gruffly pushed the kid's shoulder.
Moments earlier we'd had a viewing of a world class circus, no ordinary circus, with some Opera that even included seeing a real gymnast on a swivel bird perch swinging contraption. She held perfectly still even as they attached wheels and bumped up a box truck ramp. As she was getting arrested the hat had become a futbol. We were getting good at the Everything Game, pre real sports games.
Taller sons patted short, weathered jockey Dads on the back as numbers were unvelcro'd from their backs.
"Why the leymahn?"
The answer was codedly answered in every language including braille.
"Always love you the BEST true response."
"To new products we're
"Readying for marketing
The man didn't want to turn around in his Speedo. He peeked over his shoulder. "Dunno." He winced. Too tight. Turned partway around, "Looks like a Kraut Cap," he breathed in deeper than deep as someone pulled the cake box string attached to the waist of the slacks he'd put on.
A black chest in front of him was opened and a viewing slot in the back of the doored part slid open. "Blech, blich, cough, blocch, BLOCK, suck, hold, cough, cough," a monicled eyeball the color of a lion's fur looked through the rectangle. The slot shut. "Tooooo FAT," a tiny stunt woman's voice said as she zipped herself into a tuba suitcase.
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