To My Eternal Shame
A man mockingly asks me how I am liking it – having to kiss his pretty girlfriend’s feet in the ramshackle alleyway? I humbly confirm to the magnificent man, in the most respectful and obsequious of tones, that I like it sir, but not that much sir, begging the mighty master-sir's forgiveness and understanding, sir? He laughs and goes on to enquire as to how many pairs of feet, on average, I must kiss-respect on a typical day, and don’t I feel shame that my mouth is covered in other people’s shoedirt? Again I reepond to the inquisitive and clearly highly intelligent master-sir's questions in the most sycophantic of terms, estimating, most humbly, that I must kiss on average about 1000 pairs of feet per day, begging the master-sir's pardon and forgiveness sir, and that I do indeed feel shame at, and profusely apologise for, my mud-stained mouth, please don't beat me or punish me sir? The man and his girlfriend then both laugh out loud at me and my obsequious responses t...