I saw a man in a business shirt and tie with camouflage pants and wrap around Ray-bans, as I went for my walk this morning. Which is kind of odd, as the men in business shirts and camouflage pants don't generally come out until well into summer. And here was this crazy man at the beginning of spring.
He was standing in the street, very still, kind of like he was his very own action man figure. It was as if he had, done as Madonna had asked, and struck a pose. He was muscle bound, and really too short for the muscles he had, if I was honest. He couldn't get his arms down by his sides, as his pecs, or whatever are next to his pecs bulged out getting in the way of his arms.
He had a bit of the Rodrigo Duterte's about him. His camouflage pants were tight on him and there wasn't much room to hide his gun, if it was the drug dealers he was after. I could make out the faint outline of a gun, maybe. Perhaps, he was suddenly going to go Shazam! suddenly and spring into his crime fighting action. Perhaps?
But he remained perfectly still as I walked passed, his arms jutting out from his sides, like a decommissioned terminator, the sun glinting perfectly in the corner of his shades.
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