I pause solemnly and look up from the religious text. “And what do we say upon seeing the footwear of Lil Wayne?” I ask.
“Those are his Hooves, you Bitch,” the people respond.
“And when do we wear them?”
“Upon escaping from the law,” comes the reply.
“And who has taught us this?”
“Sherlock Holmes,” the response choruses.
“And what are they for originally?” I say in the weary tone of someone who has had to do this a lot.”
The mixed murmur is a little shameful. I sigh. “And what are they for originally?”
“Pony kink,” the response emerges reluctantly.
“And what do we say?”
“Your kink is not my kink and that’s okay.”
“Let us regret.”
We all regret.
Because I am that person, and cannot hold myself back, I add perkily: “interestingly, this design is kind of the reverse of jockey racing boots, where the metal horseshoe is on the heel!”
Nobody is interested in this. I should have given up long ago on trying to “hear me out” or infodump on the topic of jockeys. But, you know what, I’m the one up here with the shawl, leading the sacred texts. Sometimes my interests will emerge. Oh well.
amhrancas 