Curio shoppe
My parents, Paul, and I are in a curio/antique/fetish shoppe.
I'm wandering around looking at things.
I find a display of boxes.
Some are boxes in boxes, some tiny pill cases.
One has a picture of a redcoat soldier standing next to a horse; scraping poo off his boot,
another is a cigar case with a female gender symbol on it.
I pick up a tiny wooden 'treasure chest', just bigger than the ball of my thumb.
It has a tiny sliding panel in the bottom, almost too tiny to hide anything in.
I walk around to the other side of the display to find a top hat made of alligator skin.
There is a note from Paul on it saying
"the frame is made of wood so it'd be too heavy to wear, and besides that, it's pretty beat up"
I look through the antique clothes and find a beautiful silver velvet vest
and a pair of olive, button down pants.
I try them on (with a white pirate's blouse) and decide to get the outfit,
along with several of the pill cases.
There is a woman who works in the store as a 'shopping helper'.
She's tall, thin, has short brown hair bobbed at the ears,
and is dressed well in black slacks and a vest.
We discuss breast dilemmas for a while before I check out the 'fantasy area'.
On the way I pass a rack of peculiar greeting cards.
I pick out one with a black and white picture of a concerned looking basset hound for Chris (L).
I begin looking through a rack of 'costumes'.
One is a latex 'wonder woman' outfit,
and several are clear vinyl cones that snap on at the neck and flare out at the knee.
A photo above the clothing rack shows an extremely heavy woman
squished into one of these 'cones',
so that her body is mushed up against the sides like canned ham.
One picture has ponytailed bondage girls in it.
There are two somewhat hard plastic costumes of the invisible man and woman
(those educational toy figures whose bones and organs are visible)
which have snaps on the sides.
I wonder if my breasts will fit, so I push my finger against the material to test its give.
It splits, so I walk away.
(My father ends up buying it "for the family")
I look through the t-shirts, but they're all pretty typical.
(Jack Nicholson from the Shining, MC Escher,...).
A slow fellow with bad grammar is trying to convince me that he'd "done found a real Escher".
I rejoin my parents and Paul.
We pay for the stuff we want, and leave.