I like a good mystery. An overactive imagination is kind of my stock in trade. People-watching is an exercise in making up fictional histories for strangers.
This sign, however, stymies my every fictional effort.
I find nothing to add to this text to make a more vivid, surprising, or funny bit of narrative. It's already there: the stereotype and the inverted stereotype, the frustration and the showmanship, the transgression and the possibility of forgiveness.
I mean, dam, it's a zen koan of a story. Plus two mungrel dogs.
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