A friend suggested that we go to the mall and get a pair of pants.

It's an eventful ride on the No. 1 bus. Hardly anyone gets on but at the mall everyone gets off. And there we are. A pair of pants, eh? So we scour the mall and go into several boutiques full of women, all hunting for skirts, pants and shoes. Which one will be the best? What's this? Any use? I watch one woman who looks as if she really knows what she's doing, digging furiously through a rack. All the items look identical to me, sort of dull skimpy tops in the latest non-colour, but she forges ahead. It must be here. I can almost smell it. Somewhere, among all this, an edible morsel. Wait. Back up. What's this? ... No good! People say to me, "Why don't you get yourself a new shirt?" Oh yeah. Like I have a scintilla of the instincts necessary for real shopping. No use my even trying.