I’ll give a more complete report on my Renaissance Faire ramblings when I’m not operating with less brain than the little puppet nestling bird my friend bought there. But there was one brief interchange I thought worthy of repeating.
My friend is a public defender, and there is one prosecutor in particular who, shall we say, pushes the envelope of acceptable behavior until it resembles an overfilled water-balloon balanced on a pin. So as we were wandering around the fair, we came upon a merchant selling furs, fleeces and hides of various sorts. (He had some lovely lambskin suede that was literally as soft as velvet, but that’s another story.) We wandered into the back area of his pavillion, where he had assorted small animal pelts for sale. The previous owner of one of them had clearly been a skunk.
K: “Oh, look at this! I love it, but I don’t know what I’d do with it.”
Me: “Well, you could always take it up to the prosecutor’s office when no one’s around and tack it to (bad apple’s) office door.”
I can’t remember the last time I saw her laugh quite that hard.
Oh, the skunk pelt? She bought it.
If she actually does it no one will notice.
They’ll just think that the prosecutor in question was shedding….