Downtown

Water Tower Place is nice. People who shop there are very pretty. I took the elevator to a store named Abercrombie & Fitch. One time I saw an old newsreel of Theodore Roosevelt going on a safari, and he was carrying a lot of trunks with the names Abercrombie and Fitch on them. The store no longer outfits expeditions; it sells high-fashion clothes instead. I liked the store and the high fashions but was embarrassed by the female mannequins. They looked like 14-year-olds except with big breasts and button bottoms and no arms or legs. And even though it was cold, they were all wearing shorts. I started feeling pretty sexy just looking at them, but then I saw a regular 14-year-old without big breasts look at a mannequin and frown. It made me sad, and I did not buy a belt or anything else and am now boycotting the store.

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I crossed the street and went into the Intercontinental Hotel. A security guard noticed the box on my shoulder and pointed his finger at me and asked if I had a delivery. I said no, I was looking for a barbershop. Then I asked the security guard if the hotel had a barbershop. He said no, and then thought a minute and asked, “You mean a plain old barber barbershop?”

In addition to the box of books and haircut, I bought a pair of tight black pants that day. Normally I do not wear tight pants, but everywhere I go people seem to be wearing them. Once I went to a nightclub and a big orange guy in tight black pants and a vest kept hooting at all the girls and calling his friend “faggot.” He saw me looking at him and called me an asshole, and then called me a faggot too. After that I decided not to go to nightclubs anymore. I decided that a nightclub was just a place where big orange guys could get dressed up in gay fashions and slap each other on the back and call each other faggot, dance homoerotically, and look for 14-year-olds with big breasts and button bottoms and no arms or legs. Still, I like my new black pants. They really show my figure.