OK...So I decided to rewrite the ending since it was bothering me...Hope this is better, let me know what you think!
To Vegas! Wait?! What? Pt 6
I strolled into the Roostik Box at nine am, feeling like I just got chucked off the back of the band wagon. I definitely had one drink too many last night. I made my way to the back of the shop through the rows of junk...err merchandise, hoping to find Gertie.
"Hello!" I called and turned around. I smacked right into something that was hanging off the ceiling. "Ow fuck!" I swore out loud as I plastered my hand over my smarting forehead. The whole thing was just made doubly worst what with the hangover headache I was sporting.
I looked up to see what I had hit, only end up screaming my bloody lungs out and trip over a garden gnome that was sitting behind me. In a matter of second's, I sprawled out on my ass in the middle of the store. Vegas seemed to like me on my ass it seemed.
Gertie came running (although in slow motion considering her age) out of the back.
"What iz goin on! What iz ' all the noise!" She glanced about to see me inelegantly sprawled on her shop floor. "Eh! Why are ye on the floor?" she finished confused.
"I got startled by your, err, doll and tripped over your gnome." I answered simply as I made my way to my feet, careful not to smack into anything else. She turned to see what I was talking about.
"JA! Ye knock into Svanson!" she announced while chuckling madly and slapping her knee. I guess this was her signature move, kind of like Michael Jackson and the crotch grab.
"Er...Svanson?" I asked, looking at the atrocity that had scared me out of ten precious years.
"Ja! Svanson. A gift from my huzband! Made to look like 'im! Very handzome fellow no?" she asked with her grin spreading over her tiny wrinkly face.
"Er...yes...very handsome." I answered awkwardly.
The handsome fellow in question was the creepiest ventriloquist puppet doll I had ever seen. It looked like Carrot Top with a beard, dressed in lederhosen and maniacal button googly eyes. Good to know what Gertie's taste in men ran to...
"Come wit me. I hav' yer outzfit back ja!" I followed her to the back store, trying hard to stop myself from imitating the little hobbity bouncy walk she had.
**
"You've gotta be kidding me..."I muttered to no one in particular under my breath as I stared at my reflection.
"JA! Very good fitz. You make memoriez of ze home come back! Ja, very nice!" Greta enthused in her husky accent.
"Uh...thanks...I think."
I looked back at the cracked mirror that was hanging on the back door of her office. I looked like Dorothy from Wizard of OZ gone wrong. The "uniform", and I used the term loosely, consisted of a tight white short poufy sleeved blouse with a chequered blue and white Dorothy dress thing.
I say a dress thing because it was actually an extremely flared knee high skirt which rested at the top of my midsection...in other words, right under my over abundant chest. It looked even more ridiculous since it had two straps that led from the waist of the skirt and went over my shoulders. It just emphasized the size of my rack since the straps wouldn't go over my chest but rested along the sides in all their blue glory and squished my assets together.
The whole thing was completed with white knee stocking and authentic wooden dutch clogs. If that didn't complement the Swedish/ Dorothy look, then the two braids that ran down the sides of my head that Gertie insisted I wear sure did. In other words, I looked like a jackass!
