Purported Hanky-Panky: Two Takes
Faux earthquake and mannequin misconstrued
Bad Vibes
This afternoon, I took my friend Gale to visit the mini-museum trio in the backyard of the unofficial town historian, my friend Scott.
Years back, Scott constructed a replica of the house of a founding family, in which is displayed memorabilia of local businesses, dating back over 100 years. My favorite comprises a stack of charming tins, erstwhile containers of the sticky treats of a one-woman marshmallow-maker.
Scott pointed out a camera in the corner of the ceiling, which transmits images to his on-site repair shop.
He told Gale and me that last year, a couple, whom he’d never met, asked to see the collection. He let them in, then returned to his shop.
A few minutes thereafter, he was shocked to see, via the camera transmission, the couple prone on the floor. Before they proceeded to what he feared would be a state of undress, he rushed to intercept the action.
Turned out the terrified couple had hit the floor when they mistook the rumble of the passing train for an earthquake.
Big boys like dolls too
Next to his little house of “ill-repute,” and proportionate to it, Scott built a structure with a steeple; it’s outfitted like a church, with stained glass windows, polished-oak pews, and organ pipes, all from salvaged materials. (Scott is an inveterate trash-picker.)
Scott’s garage is trimmed so as to mimic a Victorian house; inside are furniture, mirrors, and knickknacks apropos to the period, as well as sundry odd-ball, post-period curiosities.
Among them is a muslin wedding dress that had been worn in 1947. Scott chanced upon it whilst passing by a house being readied for sale; he intercepted the disposal of sacks of clothing, one item of which was the wedding dress.
When he apprised the lady of the house of its inadvertent inclusion in the trash bag, she not only insisted that Scott keep it, but also provided him with a dated wedding photo.
Scott told Gale and me that to do justice to the dress so unsentimentally discarded, he purchased a mannequin so as to properly display it.
As he exited the shop, mannequin in his grasp, a group of leering teens approached. Scott cringed in humiliation whilst walking the three blocks to his car, as the jeering boys trailed him, calling out salacious suggestions as to sundry ways he could violate his sex doll.
