"Buddy, you just opened a BULL SHOP in Chinatown!!"
Now.
That's a perfect example of maybe I ought to hold my boasts, taunts or even toasts a moment in mind before letting fly. Because after the initial incredulity, hostility, questioning-of-mutual integrity and everything else - we were both forced to admit that it worked out to a compliment for him! I mean, apart from the dubiousness of the whole enterprise, selling bull to the Chinese, which seems a bit exploitative - but clearly you want to be the bull of the shop, not the one who's got to clean up all the busted wares your curious customers have taken home with them, to put them back together broken-hearted. So much prouder of the pieces they carry out than what they had walking in.
I used to run a bull shop in Chinatown.
Interesting business. Customers are scarce, because we don't speak English. It's a bit of a ticklish dick move, that - "Don't patronize ME!" - seems to be the message on the front door sign. Unless that calligraphist has been making fools of our faith in her! Hey, maybe that's why people keep coming in? Depending on what those beautiful characters hung in the door really say, I'd be curious to.
What with the takeout business so brisk, we're thinking of offering delivery.
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