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Karma

Page 6

“Where is the other shoe babe?”

“Out for a little jog, love?”

“Dorothy’s shoes are red - not pink!”

One guy flits past more than once just going …. “Ah ah ah Shoe!”

But I finally manage to get through to the locksmith I spoke to before. He agrees to come, so I go back outside and wait for ages. Which is easier said than done. I really don’t think I am too attractive in a man-on-man way, but due to the degree of difficulty in extricating myself from that bar, I started to review my man-appeal…

Eventually the saviour locksmith turns up, takes out a bit of plastic that looks like a section cut off the bottom of a Coke bottle, and runs it down the narrow gap between the door and frame, roughly the same way you’d swipe a credit card through a machine. The door just opens straight away – the whole process takes about ten seconds, and he charges me $500. I could have hit him!

For all my efforts to do it outside, here I was, feeling a whole new range of sensations to do with getting inside. Sure as I sit here today, the whole thing has made serious dents in my need to see outdoor furniture as a preferred rumble-tumble location. 

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