“Are you a superhero?” the snotty boy with a thin film of dayglo popsicle on his face, asks.
He was asking the man in the dandyish Edwardian suit of shades of blue plaid with skinny pants and mirror polished, brown leather shoes.
“It all depends,” the dandy answers.
“On what?” the boy asks, one finger exploring the inner depths of his right nostril.
“On whether people value style over substance.”
Examining the treasure gathered from his nasal probe in myopic detail, the boy misses this last retort. He looks at the dandy with the same scrutiny he’s just given his mucilage.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Irony Man, “ says the dandy.