So I was in a local business this morning--I'd rather not mention which one, but the women who work there tend to be large, lumpish, and lumbering, so that any transaction requires of the customer a kind of coma-inducing patience. Why doesn't such slow service scare away the customers? Because it's the only business of its kind in town and we all need it, so we stand there trying to maintain consciousness while our request makes its glacial way through the system.
This morning I was there early on the day after a holiday, so I was not surprised to detect more than the usual level of sluggishness on the part of the woman who waited on me; however, I was surprised to see what she was wearing. This woman, who appears to be pushing 60 pretty hard and whose shape is not unlike that of a forklift, was wearing a pink V-neck T-shirt with sequins on her voluminous bosom spelling out the words "Wild Thing."
I'm pleased to report that I managed to hold in my laughter until I got out the door, but then I didn't stop laughing for a long, long time.