酷我-北美枫

[Champagne]

Do Something about Your Clothes


Earlier this afternoon, my mother broke into my room without any notice, and yelled at me, "Do you know what time it is? Get up now. You need to do something about your clothes. Go to your father's store and get some DECENT clothes."

"Why are you all of a sudden so concerned about the way I dress myself?" I contended.

"For God's sake, don't you know there will be a big party held at the Sheraton at six? How can you wear your ragged clothes to embarrass us in public," she kept complaining, "You are the only son of your father. When he retires at the end of this year, you are supposed to take over his business. Until then, people will judge you by your appearance. They definitely can't stand the sight of your ragged clothes. Get up quickly and get some DECENT clothes for yourself. I MEAN IT. Don't lose our face."

Finally, my mother had finished her decent clothes talk. I was kind of tired of her cliché-ridden remark about my dressing style; however, tonight's party would be a big, important one for my parents. I didn't want to run the risk of losing my monthly allowance; hence, I needed to wear "formal attire" for the sake of my parents.

I got up reluctantly, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. When I caught sight of myself in a mirror, I couldn't help wondering who would know that beneath this tacky appearance there lived a person of depth and significance. Maybe only Susan, the over-permed checkout girl at my father's store. Every time she saw me, she always greeted me with a warm smile and sang the praises of my dressing style. I just didn't understand why most people, surely including my parents, were so obsessed with their appearances, got themselves busy with keeping up their appearances, and they didn't bother themselves to probe beneath the social facade.

When I arrived at my father's store, it was around 4:10 pm. It was a little bit late, and I had to get my clothes as soon as possible. Within thirty minutes, I got all of the clothes I needed, and I rushed to the checkout counter. Upon my arrival at the checkout counter, I was quite stunned by what I saw: so many people were lined up there, waiting to check out. I had no time to wait for the check-out, and then I ran to the elevator reserved for managers, directly down to the parking lot.

Suddenly, a rough hand came down hard on my shoulder and spun me around.

"That's not the way we play the game." A young security guy yelled at me. I barely knew this young guy. More surprisingly, he didn't know me at the first sight.

"What are you talking about? Are you new here? Do you know who I am?" I answered with a little angry tone.

He violently pulled my hands behind my back and pushed me past a line of customers staring at us.

"Shut up! It's none of your business if I'm new here or not. I'm not stupid. You're trying to steal nice clothes from this store." He kept telling at me.

"What are you talking about?" I shouted "I'm the only son of your boss. There is no need for me to steal clothes from this store. What this store has now will be mine someday."

He squeezed my hands harder and raised his voice, "What? You're the only son of my boss," he looked me up and down, and he laughed at me, saying "Look at you! The way you're dressed. If you're my boss' son, I would be your father's boss."

"What?" I shouted in disbelief. At this moment, I also heard a burst loud laughter from a line of staring customers. My eyes were brimming with tears, and my chest was pounding. Right now, I desperately needed a hiding place. "If I panic now…” I murmured.

The elevator door was opening and my father came out. He saw me and immediately pulled a long face, "Son, what are you doing here. It's almost five. Dress yourself in some DECENT clothes."

Right at this moment, I felt that the hands holding my shoulder loosen. The young security guy was unable to look me in the face. Tears were rolling down my face. It was the first time in my life I acknowledged that I needed to do something about my clothes.
_________________
I'm Champagne,
Bottled poetry with sparkling joy.

[[Champagne]]

Do Something about Your Clothes


Earlier this afternoon, my mother broke into my room without any notice, and yelled at me, "Do you know what time it is? Get up now. You need to do something about your clothes. Go to your father's store and get some DECENT clothes."

"Why are you all of a sudden so concerned about the way I dress myself?" I contended.

"For God's sake, don't you know there will be a big party held at the Sheraton at six? How can you wear your ragged clothes to embarrass us in public," she kept complaining, "You are the only son of your father. When he retires at the end of this year, you are supposed to take over his business. Until then, people will judge you by your appearance. They definitely can't stand the sight of your ragged clothes. Get up quickly and get some DECENT clothes for yourself. I MEAN IT. Don't lose our face."

Finally, my mother had finished her decent clothes talk. I was kind of tired of her cliché-ridden remark about my dressing style; however, tonight's party would be a big, important one for my parents. I didn't want to run the risk of losing my monthly allowance; hence, I needed to wear "formal attire" for the sake of my parents.

I got up reluctantly, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. When I caught sight of myself in a mirror, I couldn't help wondering who would know that beneath this tacky appearance there lived a person of depth and significance. Maybe only Susan, the over-permed checkout girl at my father's store. Every time she saw me, she always greeted me with a warm smile and sang the praises of my dressing style. I just didn't understand why most people, surely including my parents, were so obsessed with their appearances, got themselves busy with keeping up their appearances, and they didn't bother themselves to probe beneath the social facade.

When I arrived at my father's store, it was around 4:10 pm. It was a little bit late, and I had to get my clothes as soon as possible. Within thirty minutes, I got all of the clothes I needed, and I rushed to the checkout counter. Upon my arrival at the checkout counter, I was quite stunned by what I saw: so many people were lined up there, waiting to check out. I had no time to wait for the check-out, and then I ran to the elevator reserved for managers, directly down to the parking lot.

Suddenly, a rough hand came down hard on my shoulder and spun me around.

"That's not the way we play the game." A young security guy yelled at me. I barely knew this young guy. More surprisingly, he didn't know me at the first sight.

"What are you talking about? Are you new here? Do you know who I am?" I answered with a little angry tone.

He violently pulled my hands behind my back and pushed me past a line of customers staring at us.

"Shut up! It's none of your business if I'm new here or not. I'm not stupid. You're trying to steal nice clothes from this store." He kept telling at me.

"What are you talking about?" I shouted "I'm the only son of your boss. There is no need for me to steal clothes from this store. What this store has now will be mine someday."

He squeezed my hands harder and raised his voice, "What? You're the only son of my boss," he looked me up and down, and he laughed at me, saying "Look at you! The way you're dressed. If you're my boss' son, I would be your father's boss."

"What?" I shouted in disbelief. At this moment, I also heard a burst loud laughter from a line of staring customers. My eyes were brimming with tears, and my chest was pounding. Right now, I desperately needed a hiding place. "If I panic now…” I murmured.

The elevator door was opening and my father came out. He saw me and immediately pulled a long face, "Son, what are you doing here. It's almost five. Dress yourself in some DECENT clothes."

Right at this moment, I felt that the hands holding my shoulder loosen. The young security guy was unable to look me in the face. Tears were rolling down my face. It was the first time in my life I acknowledged that I needed to do something about my clothes.
_________________
I'm Champagne,
Bottled poetry with sparkling joy.

[Lake]

It's a fun read.

“人看衣服马看鞍”， Sometimes, clothes does make a difference, though I prefer casual and comfortable clothes.

It sounds like this is a very traditional family - "my mother broke into my room", even without knocking the door? And then it also tells that she's so annoyed with her son's clothes.

Well, it's all up to the situation what you need to wear, right? And what you wear can tell whether you care it or not, the importance you show to ...

[[Lake]]

It's a fun read.

“人看衣服马看鞍”， Sometimes, clothes does make a difference, though I prefer casual and comfortable clothes.

It sounds like this is a very traditional family - "my mother broke into my room", even without knocking the door? And then it also tells that she's so annoyed with her son's clothes.

Well, it's all up to the situation what you need to wear, right? And what you wear can tell whether you care it or not, the importance you show to ...

[ericcoliu]

The popular saying, "Clothes make the man", rings ture in your story
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[[ericcoliu]]

The popular saying, "Clothes make the man", rings ture in your story
_________________
Time is nothing but a disquiet of the soul

[Champagne]

[[Champagne]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]