Rasmus adjusted the basket on his arm. Then, for the sake of Halloween posterity, he snatched a single orange candle (was it supposed to smell like pumpkin? because it had an odor of burnt sesame seeds) and tossed it into the basket with the dozen or so black candles. For a moment he was reminded of those inspirational posters that one often saw in libraries and high school classrooms. 'Dare to be different!' 'In a world of Rembrandts, be a Picasso!' Like there was something wrong with being a Surrealist. Was Baroque really better? That reminded him of another phrase: 'If it's not Baroque, don't fix it.' He was pretty sure he heard that from a professor in a music theory class once.
Truer words were probably never spoken. Unless, of course, you were a Surrealist. Then it was just plain lies.
He blinked. Then he turned up his nose at the wafting scent of plastic and latex (and the ten other people who had previously tried on that mask) that drifted towards him. He was sensitive to smells. He was trying not to gag. If he threw up then he'd have to go to the Minute Clinic and make sure it wasn't bird flu. It could definitely be bird flu. He saw a flock of Canadian geese three days okay. They were shitting on the park benches near the town square as they soared overhead.
Bird flu was a definite possibility.
Latex, however, didn't bother him. But it did sometimes make him itch in uncomfortable places.
"You looked like a hedgehog. I think it's because your head is shaped a bit like an upside down turnip. I mean, so, yeah. I guess that's pretty. If you like hedgehogs and turnips."
Which probably sounded like an insult, but it absolutely was not meant to be an insult. Rasmus simply had the tendency to be, well, blunt.