The Yellow Trench Coat
There was a time in Alfred’s life when he thought he needed no one, but that thought ended when he met the yellow trench coat. It was a rainy night in the city and he was walking along 5th avenue when he saw it. It was as if it was speaking to him, in a language so powerful that he couldn’t resist it. “Come buy me”, it whispered. “I want to be yours”. The urge was unbearable.
“I’m gonna regret this” , he thought, prophetically, as he entered the store.
“Can I help you sir?”, the mellifluous voice of the clerk resonated in his head, meaning nothing at all. Alfred walked past him as if he wasn’t there and headed directly to the yellow beauty standing alone by the window.
“Hi baby” he whispered as he grabbed it gently by the sleeve and took it to the counter.
“Excellent choice sir!” The smile in the clerk’s face was unbelievably wide. “Cash or credit card?”
Alfred hesitated for a moment and finally asked “How much is it?”.
Suddenly, the clerk’s voice changed. It wasn’t mellow anymore. All of a sudden it was ominous and dark. “Seventeen billion dollars!!!” he screamed, and the whole place trembled with the horrible echo of the phrase. No words could describe the look on Alfred’s face. All color was gone, leaving a gray mask of desperation. He thought he’d die of despair, when he heard the maniacal laugh of the clerk. “It’s a joke of course sir” he smiled. “That’ll be three bucks. Cash or credit card?”
Alfred was angry of course, but the relief he felt was greater than anything, so he quickly looked in his pocket for that five dollar bill he had left and handed it over. “Keep the change” he heard himself saying as he shut down the store’s door behind him.
“Now we’re together” he said lovingly to the trench coat. “Nothing else matters”. As he was walking down the street, he put it on. Suddenly, the coat said something to him. Something that sounded so logic and obvious, he couldn’t believe he’d overlooked it. So he turned around, and started to walk back to the store. As he passed through the door the clerk looked up. “Have you come back for your change sir?”
He wasn’t finished talking when the scissors over the counter entered his head through his left eyeball killing him immediately. Suddenly Alfred was standing all alone, the clerk lying dead in a pool of blood, the scissors grotesquely embedded on his skull.
“That was a very bad joke” he said.
The yellow trench coat agreed, silently.