Leather Man

It's not morally acceptable to wear leather these days.

Von Humphing leaned forward and fingered the lapel of my jacket with a frown.

A bunch of us had decided to go to the pub for a few pints after work. By now, on what I thought to be my fifth pint the world had taken on a sparkly sheen and everything felt just right.

At least until Von Humphing had rolled up alongside me with his slippery face and accusing eyes.

I tugged the lapels of my fine jacket before sniffing deeply and looking down my formidable nose at him.

It's not leather, little man. It's fake.

I said this with the sincerity of a man assuring his wife-to-be that he has never peed in the kitchen sink when drunk.

That's not fake, it's real.

Von Humphing fingered my lapel faster as if to bring it to a shuddering climax.

I can assure you that this leather jacket is one hundred per cent fake! Fake leather, made from a fake cow!

I pronounced with an absurd cockiness as if we were two stoats racing to fill a bucket of water with little porcelain cups and my cup was the bigger of the two.

Von Humphing peered at me suspiciously then pulled himself in close to my collar and sniffed.

Ha! I can smell it, it's leather. It's not fake at all!?

His tone smacked of triumph and at that moment he reminded me of the famous story about the man with the small penis in Las Vegas unable to find anyone willing to accept a little deposit who eventually died in the desert after drunkenly trying to mate with a scorpion.
_{^{His main mistake of course was choosing the missionary position.}}

It's really not leather, that's a fake leather smell. Tell you what, lick it. You will see.

I tugged the collar of my jacket towards him invitingly.

I... I... What!?

Von Humphing looked at me with disbelief, like an NFT holder checking the dollar value of his crypto wallet after buying some killer limited edition NFTs as an investment a year earlier.
_{^{That dollar number ain't ever going up baby!}}

You heard, lick it. Lick my jacket. You will see it's not leather.

I flipped my jacket lapel to the side and cupped my left manboob at him as if it were a choice between the two. That's the best way of dealing with malcontents I have found.

I will not lick it!

He snorted furiously like a horse finding out that the lamb chop it is eating comes from New Zealand.
_{^{It is a known fact that Horses have an inimical hatred of New Zealand}}

Then you have to accept my word that it is fake!

I wobbled my near-empty pint glass at him chastisingly.

Doesn't look fake.

Von Humphing grunted defeatedly.

Well it is, now go buy me another pint and I will forgive you for your rudeness! You rascal!

I nodded in the direction of the bar and Von Humphy-knickers shot me one last suspicious look before heading off to buy another round.

I sniffed proudly like a badger steering a boat and giggled at his retreating back.

Idiot... As if I would let someone like him lick my fancy-schmancy leather jacket!?