I must talk to this man, I tried,"Wakey, wakey, eehymmmm, cough, cough, excuse me Sir, good morning , Starbucks? "
to no avail.
"Date with the SP? Yummy yummy," had the same effect.
Perhaps he was a gallery exhibit performance art piece who in fact was secretly a spy, sent to follow me and the rope was meant to tie me up so he could capture me to bring me back to the Chelsea gallery to pay for the blasted porridge chair, as they know how slippery I am when it comes to paying up.
I was totally spooked. Lucky for me, my jailor was a golden sleepy head, snoozing on the job and I got away scott free again.
No comments:
Post a Comment