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June 7, 2005

Volume 2, Issue 7

Random book. Random line. Random Andy.

"In case you're wondering, I don't spend the entire workday inside my tailor shop."

As always, click above to see the book, maybe add it to your collection, because - hey now - would I steer you wrong?

No, I wouldn't, not even for a gazillion dollars (however, a bazillion is another story indeed).

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Tanya: Stitches

"In case you're wondering, I don't spend the entire workday inside my tailor shop," he added. "It's not all businessmen and bar mitzvahs. I volunteer in the local schools' home economics departments. I even help out at the funeral home downtown, whenever anyone's out sick."

"But, your honor, I never put anyone in that funeral home," Mickey the Needle said, without a trace of irony. "I never sent anyone there, sir."

He didn't need to leave his shop. We had all seen graphic pictures of what he could do, in the back room with a glover's needle and fishing wire.

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Michele: Bottom of the 9th

"In case you're wondering, I don't spend the entire workday inside my tailor shop. In fact, just yesterday I went to Brooklyn to visit Pat.”

“Dad, Pat’s been dead for....”
“Shhhh..” Craig’s sister whispered. “You promised you’d go along this time.”
“It’s sad.”
“It’s all he’s got.”
“He’s living in his head.”
“And in his head, he still runs the shop, isn’t in a nursing home, and the Yankees win every night.”

“Son, why don’t we close up shop and go to Coney Island?”

He glanced at Alice, who nodded.

“Sure, pops.” He tried to smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

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The Eschatologist: A Lifetime Of Regret

Solomon's Haberdashery and Imported Finery, read the weather worn, hand stenciled sign above the store. Old Sol was bent over at the tile-lined doorway, swept clean of debris but still showing it's antiquity, trying to get his key into the lock with shaking hands.

Clearing my throat, I patted Sol on the back. He started slightly, but didn't look at me.

"Damned key always sticks, yanno."

"I know, Sol." I tried to be nonchalant. "So this is it? Last day."

"Despite what Rita said, I never spent all my days here." He looked up, tears streaming.

"I know, Sol."

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Ted: Tailor Made

"Of course young lady, we can tailor your child to have purple eyes. If we can make her a genius plus amazon, eye color is a simple variation."

The young lady in my office seemed amused with my demeanor.

"I was hoping you would say that," she snarled, pulling a lethal pulse pistol out of her bag.


"You are under arrest for the crime of gene tailoring! You have the right to remain silent until the Justice's Prosecutor arrives!"

I knew I should have taken up a nice safe speciality, like eye transplants in Chinatown.

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Stacy: Inconvenienced

"In case you're wondering, I don't spend the entire workday inside my tailor shop."

I glance at the wizened little man behind the counter as I rummage for my wallet. I'm just here for my damned skirt, I don't want to bond, fer crissakes.

"I also have a nice side business," he continues, undeterred.

He peers at me through bottle-thick glasses. "Don't you want to know what else I do?" he creaks.

I hurriedly slap down too much money, grab my skirt and bolt out the door, glad to be away from the smell of blood and the irritating screaming.

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