Sunday, 5 February 2012


I was on my break, walking in the park, past the Saturday cricket crowd. Breathing some non-conditioned air. Getting some sunshine. Wearing my invisibility uniform: grey jumper, raw denim jeans and black leather sneakers. Completely invisible. Such a non-statement outfit had taken years to develop. Run of the herd type of stuff. Just one of the taxpayers yo. Sleeves pushed up because it was hot.
A voice came firing from over the other side of the field. Someone on the clubhouse balcony was shouting… at me? I went something like this:

What is that?!

What is that?


What are you wearing!?

Is that a long sleeve? Poser!

What are you wearing!

Hey poser!


Did I know this guy? Was he from work? Was he having me on? Or was my act this naked? Visible across a cricket field. Was this MY body?
I walked along with my eyes bugging out like Uncle Rico and wondered if he was yelling at me.

I planned a most devastating revenge but I shouldn’t tell you about it, it might get me in trouble.

And for the record it was an early start so I was dressed for the early morning chill, just like anybody else would have been in that situation.

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