The Days of Unlikely Noses
Hi there. Let me introduce myself. My name is… umm… I don’t remember. It’s not that important, I guess. Don’t look at me like that. Let me tell you about my history.
I used to be a private detective back in the ’20s. I know that most people call it “The Decade of Carbohydrate Swimming,” but in reality there’s little basis for that label. Personally, I’ve always called it “The Decade of Lettuce-Influenced Madness.” Well, to be more precise, I call the years between 1920 and 1927 “The Decade of Lettuce-Influenced Madness,” even if that’s not a completely smell-free use of the word “decade.” The first week of 1928 I usually refer to as “The Days of Dark Soup.” The years between 1928 and 1931 (not counting the first week of 1928 again, of course) I sometimes call “The Days of Silly Putty and Short Pieces of String,” for obvious reasons. But not all the time, sometimes I call those years “The Days of Unlikely Noses,” for less obvious reasons.
Those reasons bring me back to where we started today, a sentence in which I was a private detective in those many-named years. Some days I would find myself surrounded by noses, everywhere I turned. It was as if the air was a sea of noses, and I was a swimmer in that sea, even if it was really just air. I could also have been a whale, maybe, in a sea (air) of noses. Or a dolphin or cute little fish or something. That’s not really the important part, the important part is the sea of noses. Forget the air bit. I’m just saying, there were a lot of noses back then. A little bit of air, but mostly noses.