Long Gloves Required

Let's be frank, the world is not nearly as brand-new and shiny as when America first declared its independence or Canada achieved its confederation. Photographs of those "good old days" have faded due to wear and tear from the multiple times you've pulled them from your pocket, and portraits firmly affixed to the wall depicting your ancestors have grown dusty. The streets might seem a little bit dirtier, or they could actually be a lot dirtier because of the scum that inhabits every free sidewalk and sewer drain. Litter is everywhere nowadays. There are volunteers like me who try to do their part, but the surge of trash that finds its way down all the side alleys has finally got me defeated. There's only so much I can take. I don't want to give up my position in making the world a better place, but I need better materials than what I've got on me at the moment.

To anyone out there, I need a pair of long gloves.

I respect the enduring "Five Second Rule". I'm not ashamed to call out somebody who has just thrown their drink bottle onto the pavement, and tried to walk away; sometimes I will even pick up the cheap plastic with none but a silent complaint. But the idea of germs is repellant to even one such as me, and nice gloves would help. I saw the most ideal boxed set in a store window the other day, featuring supple black leather sheaths that cover the expanse of the arm up to one's elbows (those would be divine, to anyone interested in offering help). My nutritionist told me that at least 50% of diseases are picked up through the skin, and that was before he sold me a large bottle of Vitamin C, so he wasn't trying to pitch a sale. He shook my hand and everything, so if he'd meant for me to make the purcahse he wouldn't have given me the idea that maybe he'd like to kill me. My point is, a pair of gloves would help.

Where was I? Oh, right, a pair of long gloves would help.


The End

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