Some filler, For Friday

“Man, It's a Good Friday,” said Slim, looking out the window on Queen Street.

“If you say so,” said the Mannequin. “I can never tell the days apart.”

If Slim could have shaken it's head, it would have. “Can't you see? Friday is when the people wear black coats and booties across the street!”

“You know fully well I can't, at least in the Euclidean sense,” snapped the pale statuette. “Besides, people always walk by wearing black coats and booties. I think your perception of times is skewed.”

“You're skewed.” snapped Slim.

“I'm supposed to be, it makes me attractive to the passer-by! Calling me skewed is like me telling you that you're crooked.”

“What's that supposed to mean,” Wailed Slim, dander rising.

“It means that you ARE a window crack. It makes sense that you're kinda crooked.” The Mannequin ungraciously replied.

“I don't know why I talk to you, “ snarled Slim.

The Mannequin didn't reply. Silence spread across the window display like a creeping frost. People came into the store, people left the store. Just before the lights were turned off for the evening, they marveled at the peace and quiet below.

For them, at least, it was a good Friday.