“Button your jacket.”
“Button your jacket, you look like a schmuck” Tom said, crossing the room and glancing out the second story window to the street below. His grey double-breasted suit with white thin pinstripes and baby blue corsage were in impeccable order and he wasn’t going to watch his friend make an ass of himself in front of the ladies.
Bill buttoned his jacket on the black suit he had bought yesterday at Harold’s Department store. He looked like an usher at a funeral. Standing there, no flower, not even a pocket square. Just a white shirt and a black suit. Like a mortician.
“They’re heading up, both in evening gowns.” Tom said, checking his teeth in the mirror. Ladies like a clean gentleman.
Bill stood, a slump, with his mouth drooled down and his shoulders slouched, like someone had splashed him with a full bucket of water.
Tom inspected him, “Dear god man, you really look miserable. We are going to the playhouse with two lovely ladies and you look like you’re about to bury your favorite granny.”
“So you’re the one who wanted to step out this evening! Remember? I stood here at noon yesterday asking what you’d like that could possibly cheer you up. You said, ‘Ladies at the Playhouse’.” argued Tom.
“Yes”, Bill sneered as he removed the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, and handed it to Tom to read…
“LADIES AT THE PLAYHOUSE – A BURLESQUE SHOW” In bold type face with a harlot in feathered rear blowing a kiss.
A knock at the door. Tom was still laughing when he answered it.
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