Avant garde, no?

So there I was, standing in the frozen goods aisle, innocently pondering the wider implications of our pre-packaged culture of homogeneity.

Suddenly, a man in a high visibility shirt approached. "Can I ask youse a question?" he asked redundantly.

"Sure," I answered.

"Do you reckon I've got short arms?" he asked.

I didn't, but it never hurts to double-check. "Not really. Let's see them."

He showed me his arm, with his hand tucked back.

"I think it would look longer if you didn't bend your hand like that. Why do you ask?"

"I want to be a wrestler." Of course.

"What kind?"

"I want to be a performance wrestler, so I need long arms to do clotheslines. How did you arms get so long? What do you eat?"

"You have to eat all long foods, like carrots and zucchini," I told him.

"Okay, I'll try that," he said, "Thanks."

And then he was away, leaving me dumbfounded by the dim sims and spring rolls.

The End.

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