HIGHLIGHTS OF THE TWILIGHT

The clerk reminded me of my dead husband who used to say he was always going around all the time with his penis sticking out and that he didn’t know what to do.

“Lady!” the clerk said.

A little old lady jerked herself toward that clerk.

A motley group of us was looking at a wristwatch and inwardly I prayed I’d see a glow of dancing matter to lead me. I am another little old lady.

“Mrs. Cook,” a clerk said, “are you here to have some fun?”

This is a shop with a bird on a branch in diamonds and pearls, a ruby-eyed dog, a ram’s head, a griffin, a cupid in gold.

“It’ll be entirely discounted if I understand you correctly—” my clerk said, “this is all that you want!”

“I can’t afford it and I’ll have that one!”

“You’ve broken it! You’ve ruined it!” the clerk said.

I said, “Don’t look so awful,” but he had already so imprudently advanced into my hell-hole.