Customer: “What does your shirt say?”
Me: “Oh, this? It says FoLK.'”
Customer: “FoLK?”
Me: “Yes, short for ‘Fellowship of Leather and Kink.’ It’s a local leather club.”
Customer: “Nice! I’ve never been there.”
I started to clarify that FoLK was actually a group of like-minded individuals and not a seedy gay bar, but then his boyfriend wandered in and was all, “Wow, great porn shop! I love it when these places have porn shops,” and suddenly I didn’t feel helpful anymore. Must’ve been the weather or my sinuses or something.
Marjorie's Forgeries 