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Mustard Meter

Gone out for a big day. To the shopping mall, where it's air conditioned, and where the doors open automatically, although sometimes they don't. Sometimes it's a lie and you walk into the door, and above there is a camera, and somewhere in the building, men are watching the screen, laughing at you, whilst they eat sandwiches with mustard in them, and sometimes they're laughing so hard the mustard goes from their mouths to the screen. That's when you know it's really funny, they call it the mustard meter.

3 comments:

JMH said...

The shopping mall? I can't think of a substance that would make that place tolerable. Morphine maybe, if there's a bench where you can sit in drool-soaked haze.

I still think it's fun to see someone go the wrong way down (or up) the escalator.

dogimo said...

I kind of like the mall. Especially as CHRISTMAS DRAW NEAR

John Dantzer said...

I guess I shouldn't like the mall, because it kind of treats it's customers like pigs, and because sometimes their mass disturbs the migration patterns of turtles, but I like it anyway, the same way a junkie would like crack.