It had taken Richard nearly two hours to shoehorn himself into his rented rooster costume. The zipper was nearly impossible to zip up, especially with his hands encased in the costume’s yellow, mock feather wings. But somehow, after struggling and contorting into what seemed like a thousand different pretzel-like positions, he had been finally able to get everything in order.
As he stood there, gazing proudly into the full-length mirror, admiring his bright cockscomb, he found himself wondering if maybe the idea of meeting a woman who was knowledgeable about pre-Socratic philosophy, while he was dressed in a bright yellow, almost inescapable, rooster outfit, might have any drawbacks? Only, he thought, if she really, really
liked him. But, sadly, that hadn’t been a problem Richard had to confront on any of his other first dates, of which regrettably, there had been far too many.