Petrel-oil and Epaulettes

It rained so hard, and with such total disregard for hatters, that the man in the hat had to turn his hat brim-side up to ward off the rain and prevent it from splashing into his face. The upside brim served as a sluice gate, redirecting the rainwater onto the epaulettes of his jacket, where it formed goblets, not unlike those found on plants and awnings. He jaunted his way up the sidewalk, his leg picking up bits of garbage, odds and ends left behind by shoppers and gadabout’s, and stopped in front of the alms woman, who was seated with her legs crossed in front of the haberdasher’s. She told the man in the hat that her pubic-bone was out of alignment, and that the doctor had cautioned her against sitting on sidewalks and cement planters, or wearing fashionable shoes with steeple-heels and low arches. There had been a rumor spreading that a worm had been discovered in the crotch of a dead woman, the labia, major and minor, jumpy with night crawlers and nits. The alms woman had seen this very thing before, when she lived in the city of fester with her now decocted mother and a lapdog with no tail or left eye. The outbreak was dealt with swiftly by the local constabulary, who sprayed down all of the shanties and crude huts with a mixture of petrel-oil and gasoline. The petrel-oil was rendered from dead birds, and in its desiccate form added to mechanic’s grease and a solvent that stank like near-death. Once the outbreak had been controlled, the shanties and huts were burnt to the ground to prevent any further infestations, and as a way to caution those who chose dereliction and sloth over good manners and chirpiness to either shape up, or have their homes razed to smithereens.