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Mr. Rice straightens his dark red tie.
His wife says it is wine but he knows better. And he always does know better, why else would he be in the big office on the 18th floor. His family is very proud of his accomplishments. Little did they know that he mostly played games online all day when he wasn’t practicing his putting skills for Thursday.

He steps back, turns sideways and smiles.
He pulls down on his coat and speaks aloud, ” Clothes make the man”.
Then he steps out into the street.

Mr.Bowl’s back feels like it wants to snap in two. It always does when he works 14 hours straight. He slows down the weaving machine and adjusts it. Miss Fork will be in soon to take his place.
He always leaves the machine in perfect adjustment for her. Poor soul, she has so little time for her children. But he mustn’t dwell on it, just try to help that’s all. Mustn’t dwell on it in this tired painful state, he can’t afford another breakdown.

Mr. Bowl stumbles out into the street.
The not so fresh air and bright sunlight do little to brighten his disposition.
Suddenly he feels jarred, spins around
and falls. Looking up he sees Mr.Rice hurrying down the street.He recognizes the cloth of his suit, the high end fabric they produce on the last week of every month.

Mr.Rice brushes the dust from Mr.Bowl off his sleeve.Β  He thinks to himself ” that unkempt #@**, doesn’t he know that clothes make the man”.
Mr. Bowl struggles to get to his feet.
He follows Mr. Rice into the sunrise with his tired eyes,he thinks to himself,Β  ” doesn’t that arrogant #$$%* know that man makes the clothes” .


About wherearetheheros

just someone my mother might know

6 responses »

  1. I told this story to my family on the ride home tonight.
    My son said I was a communist. Haha

    The last time I was called a communist was back in college. Professed Tzarzar asked my view on something and whatever I said made him stand on his toes and shout “Communisssssttttt!” . He seemed to me to be making a mockery of so many things when he did that. What a great memory. Blah blah blah
    thanks for reading if you make it this far.

  2. I love that you share your stories with your family. Even if they can be a tough audience. I love that you have stories to share! πŸ™‚ Okay . . .confession. Envious.
    I’m smiling too, because I have a clothes situation going on of my own. I have never cared that much about clothes. My aging mother likes to buy me things and I just wear whatever she gets for me or whatever she gives me of her things she doesn’t want any more . .. even if they aren’t my size. Then, a cousin took a picture of me and when I saw it, saw what I really looked like, I decided I needed to change some things. haha!

    • Oh that’s tough.
      Kind of oppressing in a way, once you think on it.
      I hope you get some new clothes that you choose.
      Your problem is a different twist on this theme.

      I wear a lot of hand me down clothes from my wifes uncle but I like his clothes πŸ™‚

  3. so sorry to hear about Mr. Rice. when i sit comfortably in the office typing computer programs, i am always aware that this comfort in life was build on many people’s effort: my mom working both as a mom and a dad to support me to school, my teachers in the college giving me good recommendations, and all the work that people in my field has done to read and search for. we stand on a hill because of the earth under our feet. Your story just reminded me of Newton’s saying about him standing on giant man’s shoulder. And the story somehow reminds me of the true life of artists, who works extremely hard but is paid low usually.


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