Читать книгу Overheard - Mark Love - Страница 15

A woman in a dry-cleaner’s shop pulls a coat out of a bag.

WOMAN: I’d like to have this cleaned, please.

DRY-CLEANER: Right, that’ll be…What’s that?

WOMAN: It’s a coat, a man’s coat.

DRY-CLEANER: What’s that on it?

WOMAN: What?

DRY-CLEANER: (pointing) There.

WOMAN: Oh, I expect it’s a cat hair, I caught the cat sleeping on it.

DRY-CLEANER: Well I can’t accept that, I’m afraid.

WOMAN: I beg your pardon?

DRY-CLEANER: I’m not touching it. I have an allergy.

WOMAN: It’s just a cat hair.

DRY-CLEANER: I’m sorry but I can’t accept it. If you take it away and remove any cat hair I’ll be pleased to clean it.

WOMAN: You mean take it away and clean it? Don’t you think I brought it to you because I wanted it cleaned?

DRY-CLEANER: I can’t take it, sorry.

WOMAN: This is ridiculous! You must have dozens of things brought in every day that have cat hairs on them! You seriously expect me to take this home, clean it, and then bring it back for you to clean it again?

DRY-CLEANER: Sorry. I’ve got an allergy.

WOMAN: (furious) Has it ever occurred to you that you might have gone into the wrong profession?

She exits in a swirl of loose cat hair.

Note: The dry-cleaners went out of business two weeks later.