The Emperor’s New Clothes

The Emperors New Clothesthither lived a earthly concern he should still be alive now, even one would ilk to think that he had grown up a little.He fancied himself the It Boy of Western Super- Mare, he was the guy in the latest fashion, up to date hairdos and always had this months Vanity Fair tucked chthonic one arm.The fact that he was al well-nigh 38 and still lived in his parents triplet bedroomed semi-detached did non seem to deter him.Being a existence of simple pleasures, and having never had the intuition to actually move into a posterior of his own and get a career, his daily r permit onine had non changed much(prenominal) over the past twenty eld.No later than 8.30am each morning, his partial(p) and somewhat drink defeattrodden mother would creep into his bedroom, careful not to wake the big bucks of a son who lay snoring homogeneous a blabber in his bed. She would place his plate of sausage sandwiches close to his bedside and then(prenominal) piano le ave closing the door gently behind her.At notwithstanding 8.40am, he would take one last grotesque snore and then emerge from his top bunk, and haul his not so svelte aim down the two foot ladder that leant over against the side, which screamed in distress e very step he made in his descent. With one foul sliding board his slap-up hairy hand would shovel sausage sandwiches into his gawping mouth, two at a time.He would then make his way to the bathroom, where he worn-out(a) about two thirds of his life.Who would have thought that a bathroom barely capable of fitting in a bathtub, wash basin and fecal matter, could hold out the valety different cheap brands of beauty products that he had acquired over the years?Two and half-hours later and he is all ready. The better a man looks, the better a man isHe would bellow after flushing the toilet and bursting out of the bathroom with a quiff that no Elvis impersonator could equality to. He had a lengthy beauty regime that was sudd enly bouncy that he stuck to. How else was he going to pass off being the most vain person in the whole of Western Super-Mares hi allegory? unity gets the impression that some of the hair that once belonged on the crown of his passing play had quietly crept to join the vast amount of hair that covered the wait of his body. As most middle-aged men do, he himself had acquired a kinda prominent bald patch.This baldness did bother his small mind. But not enough so that he did not take ultimate superbia in every other inch of himself. later bathroom time, it was get dressed up time. To say that he took an hobby in fashion would be a laughable understatement. His grandly small bedroom was not someplace one could kick approve and relax, purely due to the lack of space.He did have a lot of clothes, even the odd sarong and kilt. If someone labeld had once worn it, or been seen in it, he would have it, or so he give cared to make out.Expense simply does not matter when you are no t paying for eachbody but your conceited self. dish the dirt about the town was that he surely must have had professional Being tattooed behind his ear, like the 666 in the Omen, but this guy was real.Once kitted out in an outfit that was about as un-flattering as he could by chance piece together,Its next season darling, anybody can see that he would jeer to anybody who dared to scoff at him.After blowing air kisses to his mother and father, he would run off to the seafront.When on the bus, he would lay out a former tissue on which to perch his bottom on, and cross his legs curtly. One whitethorn imagine that seeing a middle aged bald man with the ghastliest fake tan and atrocious dress sense and perspiration problem, would be a humorous thing, but the locals were completely used to him, and paid him no attention whatsoever.In the city he would flounce around obviously aimless, peering in at the most expensive shops and graveling lesser beings nasty looks.Then, he would go to his favourite caf, a low key seaside affair, that his vast Aunt happened to own. Here, he could get stark coffee and cream cakes. This was a privilege he had been abusing ungratefully for as long as his great aunt could remember.He was definately not one to say no to something free (as his unlucky relative had realised). This was his critical downfall.It was a day like any other in the caf, when he was approached by a young char complete with fake breasts, a fake smile, and an incredible amount of orange tree makeup on, a saleswoman.He glanced her up and down, his eyes did not catch upon an expensive lable, therefore he returned to his article without bothering to utter a word.Sir, sober to disturb you, as you look like a very finical manAt which point, his Aunt spluttered in the background.She continued,My company are the newest in follicle technology, we deal in complicated science procedures, to bring men like yourself back smiling, with a full drumhead of hair Which w as then her queue to throw him a dazzling smile with gleaming eyes. Luckily, she had his attention.Menlike myself? He growled ferociously, spraying her with saliva.The womans smile did not crack.I think it may interest you to know that we have a full waiting list of celebrities desperate to get their hands on this amazing product, I chose you, because you look like a person who knows what they want. And we are prepared to give you the full course, absolutely one hundred percent free There was a pause. within his head, cogs were turning slowly. Celebrities. Desperate. FreeHe took a deep breath in, stood up proudly, his nose in the air and slammed his great hairy fist down on the table smashing four empty mugs and declared,Ill do it nimble as a flash, his details were down on paper and he carry on with his coffee, smug, with the prospect of a full head of hair.A month or so later, at 8.30am a parcel arrived next to his sausage sandwiches. At first sighting, the grown man inside of him let out a high pitched squeak of excitement.He dropped to his knees like an eager child, tearing away the packaging in glee.Minutes later, sit amdist a sea of bubble wrap, he cradling his new elixir.Follicle SOS hair rejuvenator with added vitaminsHe gasped in awe at this magical product and once again felt smugly aware that he had been hand picked to use it.After studying the instructions, here began the treatment. This is not the kind of treatment he had in mind though. One must bear in mind, that his peers were not very fond of him.Every day he applied the magical cream, and every night, he checked his bald spot for improvement. No such luck. In fact, he wasnt entirely sure, but it looked like his hair was getting sparser.After three weeks of applying the cream, he was not a happy customer. He had even stop going out to the seafront for his regular coffee and cream cakes. For not lone(prenominal) had his bald spot stayed bald, but to his horror it had increased in size.He rang the helpline. Sitting there in his mothers favourite chair, on hold, for most of an hour. Until the corresponding lady who he had spoken to before answered.A whole train of violent abuse later, the woman replied,The treatment has to get rid of the original hair, in order to work on the head as a whole, and produce shiny healthy looking locks. Because you sir, are worth it She purred. zip like a cheap compliment to dampen his rage.So, religiously, he carried on applying it.Until the final day came, when he awoke one morning completely, outrageously bald, not to mention shiny. Alongside his sausage sandwich was a small letter.He opened it happily,Popular as ever he thought.Inside the letter, was a note written by hand. It readHave you never read the story about the Emperor and his new clothes?Oh, he and his bald head of Western Super-MareVanity is a highly un-attractive quality.Consider the lesson taughtOn the back of the note, were the signatures of every person in his neighbourhoo d.Hands shaking, he laid down the note gently. Promptly strolled downstairs, leaving his sausage sandwiches behind, picked up the yellow pages and looked up, source toupees.