WHO: The Cat and Arnold J. Rimmer, open to David Lister!
WHERE: The soon to be opened fashion extravaganza known as Cat's shop
WHEN: Yesterday (10th November), cos mun is lame.
WARNINGS: Snark, snark, snark
SUMMARY: Cat is putting the finishing touches to his shop, Rimmer is... helping?
FORMAT: Paragraph to start, then however it goes.
(
He's got cash! He's got money! )
"Oh, yes, I'm absolutely certain you're going to be the resident equivalent of Calvin Kline. It's truly inevitable."
He'd snatched an hour from his busy work schedule to be here, and he was seriously wondering why. What on Io could he possibly get out of this? Oh, right, trying for the whole "nice bloke" thing again. Nngh.
"What are your gross receipts looking like? And your taxes? Have you got your business zoning permits? All this paperwork looks like...it looks like you've just been drawing pictures of yourself in various poses."
He held one up to the light and inspected it incredulously.
"In this one you're lounging on a bear-skin rug and holding a rose in your teeth."
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"Well doing all that was boring, so I figured I'd spruce it up. Give the lady who gets to read them a little treat."
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"You have absolutely no clue how to run a business, do you? You're going to wind up in jail for tax evasion, mark my words."
He gave up on trying to find anything that would be actually useful, as he knew it was futile. Instead, he turned his attention to the register, idly punching a few buttons. It was old and plasticy and clearly second hand.
"Where the smeg did you pick this up? It's like a Fischer Price register. I half expect Mary Had A Little Lamb to start playing when you punch 'No Sale.'"
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"Oh see, I was down this market place, and I told this guy I needed a cash register, so he pointed out to me and said it was exactly what I wanted." he nodded. "Plus it makes a fun little noise when the drawer shoots open."
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"What about your adverts? Are you going to purchase advertising space anywhere? Or are you just going to post to the network and hope for the best?"
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"Ohh! Yeah! I made these!" Cat picked up a sheak of papers and held them out, depicting some actually rather tastefully simply flyers. "I figure I put these up, people will come right away."
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"...These are actually very well done. And properly spelled, too. Who'd you hire to make them?"
Because the automatic assumption that anything good cannot have been made by the Cat. It just wasn't possible.
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