I woke up this morning in Milan and the specially made hotel that I designed for myself and Brad to find these human-like creatures gawking into my imported-from-France windows. And there I was thinking I'd drawn the curtains last night. I rubbed my eyes with my black fingerless gloves; all leather but no bondage (quite the absence of bondage, rather), and starred back at these creatures through my dark sunglasses, which I had not removed from the previous night- you never know when you might have to run off to a fitting!
I was starring at these creatures; their funny noses and red lips, and it struck me as they glared through my window that all these creatures were women. Of the female persuasion. You know- a bunch of Eves. I put my glasses down my nose a little- like bank tellers do in movies- and I furrowed my brow- these ladies were throwing their underwear at me!
The ones that wore underwear anyway.
I shook Brad's shoulder and slapped him around the face- just a little slap, mind you. A little of that never hurt anyone; why, my mother used to do that to me all the time! And it never did me any harm, hm?
Brad woke up- "OH DON'T HURT ME UNCLE KARL!" he yells at me; and I give him a gentle push and ask him what in Coco's name all those women are doing outside my hotel.
-At this point they're taking off their bras. The things that sort of, uh, support their breasts. They're like sort of half-cups made of fabric that they attach to their chest...or something. Models don't tend to wear them so I'm not too familiar.
Brad has no idea, of course. He shrugs and says: "Well Karl, you're simply incredibly attractive."
-"You mean really really good looking?" I say.
-"Oh, the Zoonlander reference. It had to come some time or later", says Anna who just happens to be coming out of the bathroom- underwear model in tow.
-"Not only that Karl, you're insanely sexy. It's the gloves.."
Here I look down at my ugly hands that could never hold a cigarette, and the leather that covers them. As I do this, I see one lady faint outside the window.
She simply topples over, like a very thin tree.
I then open my hands up, like a five year old might. Like, they're in a fist and then-- they're open!
I hear screaming from outside. Gosh, have I killed someone? What is all this commotion?
I glance around at these women- who are all now naked, by the way. I wonder where their rib-cages are-- and those things protruding from their chests- they're far, far too big. Is this some sort of practical joke?
I move my hand up and down- a kind of queenly wave. Mass screaming.
What have you done, Karl? I ask myself. What on Earth have you done?