Story by an
Ominous Anonymous Correspondent
One of the many gifts of being a flaneur is the encounter with the absurd, even surreal notions of what to do with a life.
On Broadway, on the way to the Apple Store is a rhymeless couplet of retail malapropisms second, possibly, to none. I mean, WHAT were they thinking when they rocked down to the Department of Fair (irony ?) Trading to register the names in their fertile imaginations ? Did they not notice a trace of wry smile on the faces of the signwriters who, if they were astute in matters of debt recovery would certainly have insisted on cash up front. As opposed to expecting a lump sum in derriers.
Take a wild guess what Chubby Girlz Butz Bar sells. Let’s eliminate the usual connotations of the word “bar”. No, this esteemable establishment does not sell alcoholic beverages. That narrows it down a bit.
No, wait, “narrows” isn’t quite the right word. It’s a broader concept than that.
This emerging retail giant has an expectation that ladies with oversized rear ends are going to swallow their pride with the same alacrity as they swallow upsized fast food portions and sprint through the gaping maw of an establishment that insists on them admitting to the world that they have a fat arse.
More to the point, if that’s not another “not quite right” term, unlike what you might imagine, CGBB does not vend silk panties made from a quantity of silk reminiscent of a WWII parachute. Oh, no. They design to sell teeny weeny G-string numbers, which, when applied would disappear without the attachment of a colourful recovery device or maybe a bookmark. And perhaps that’s their marketing trump card. A CG with a BB and a poor memory might forget that she’s already put one on and could apply another, and another and another.
Is this not some kind of cruel joke ? Is this as non PC as one could get this side of a world trouble spot ?
But if such an unfortunate lady was to fall victim to their evil marketing ways, relief in the form of comfort food (both cause and effect here) is near to hand to mouth. Hard up to CGBB we have “The Taste of Memory”.
Now to save you more mental torment, I’ve thought this one through for you, tested a few theories and I can get us over the understanding line pretty smartly. Hold my hand. Here we go.
First, “memory” ….. word association ….. brain…… This eponymous retailer sells offal, probably lambs’ brains. Relieved to learn that they do not ? So was I.
Second, “Taste” ….. noooo, clearly an organisation committed to good taste would hardly cosy up to a Chubby Girl’s Butt – or at least not in public.
Third, (and I think we might be getting warm here), perhaps they sell food that reminds us of past happy times …. Childhood ? Infancy ? Aha. So I think this shop must sell breast milk. THIS I have got to see.
“Do you need some assistance, sir ?”
“No thanks, I was just admiring your packaging”