The fairy tale is about a couple of tailors trained in the fancy school of slick talkers. The tailors offer to make the emperor a suit of clothes like none other. They can’t. No worries. They convince the dope they have, in fact, made the next hot thing in fashion, sort of like an invisible man romper or a see-through leisure suit.
Peer pressure and personal agenda keep the adults silent as the jiggle bottomed NAKED emperor marches through the street. Sure. Sure. Wonderful. Great suit. Looks classy. Nice jiggle stuff. Excellent colored bits of cloth flapping in the breeze.
Adults are toads—in the story.
Only one kid has the bad manners, to tell the truth. Love that kid. Where is that kid? We could use her these days.
I’d put that kid in charge of everything.
“Hey! Lady! Was that tattoo of Tweety Bird supposed to look like a saggy vulture?” The kid would point and say on a regular basis.
In a bathroom, I eavesdropped on the following conversation.
“So you have a tattoo?” asked a sweet, young thing, washing her hands.
“Yeah, on my boob. It’s a Tweety Bird.” Tattoo girl continued to wash her hands.
“Cool. I want to get one.”
“I wouldn’t.” Plastic gears churned as they pulled paper towels free.
“Why?”
“Tweety looked great when I first got it, but then I got pregnant, and now it looks like sh$*!”
Both girls nodded their heads in companionable agreement.
Moral of the story? If you’re going to walk around dressed in cellophane clothes and saggy vultures, don’t be shocked when some bright young thing points at you and says, “Gross!”
Thank you, bright young thing. I’m with you.
Linda (Retina Burn) Zern
