what we do

the other day barclay and i were walking down the street, because that is what we do; it's good for your heart.

we were talking about something spectacular, i'm sure, because that is what we do; anything short of spectacular is not worth a discussion.

a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties suddenly appeared at barclay's side. 

he had a cardboard sign hung around his neck which read, and i quote (a little inaccurately, due to the sign's potty mouth), "kick my butt for a dollar".

this must be a new form of busking. i suppose one knows when one has hit rock bottom, when one has no talent to give, no wares to sell, and can only offer themselves as a human punching bag for a dollar a bop. i suppose, though, that this would be a better alternative than working at staples. (zing)

we smiled at him politely, because that is what we do; we're a polite couple.

he looked barclay up and down, grinned.

"Hey there cupcake. come 'ere. gimme a buck and i'll let you pummel me. bet you could."

we smiled at him politely, and walked on.

because that is what we do.