I met up with my eccentric friend, Johnson. We sat at an outdoor restaurant and had iced coffee.
"So, how's your writing been?" I asked him.
He slurped his iced coffee and said, "It's doing fine, Ricky. I get drunk and write, then afterwards I get stoned and edit."
"Um, John, aren't you supposed to edit while sober?"
He simply shrugged, but soon he looked down, and it looked like he was on freeze frame. Finally, he spoke. "Ricky, what the fuck is that!?" He pointed at what I was wearing.
"What? It's just jeans," I said.
"Jeans?! Do you realize it's over 30 degrees? The rocks are even melting, and here you are wearing jeans?"
I stared at him, dumbfounded. "I don't get the big deal. It isn't that hot to me, and I like jeans."
"Ricky! Jeans are a symbol of authoritarianism! It means you're not free! You should be more like me at this time of year. You should wear shorts and be free!"
"But Jo—"
"FREE!" He then began to undress himself until he was
butt naked and started running towards the square yelling, "FREE! FREE! FREE!"
The onlookers were horrified. I turned to them and said, "I don't know that man."