Jones's Blue Tuxedo

A young man named Jones Aklemore is beginning to get modeling and acting deals, but it's his blue tuxedo that's the star.

A certain young man named Jones Aklemore was happily walking down 8th Avenue wearing a gorgeous (and exceptionally high-dollar) blue tuxedo. Underneath was a puffed white undershirt with all the ruffles, and on his wrists were cufflinks so big you could fit two gerbils inside. But that was not all Jones was wearing; his feet were pleased to be snuggled into fancy-brand brown dress shoes, polished just like a sports car. Oh how Jones loved the outfit he was wearing! As he walked past all the shops on the sidewalk, he stopped and admired his reflection in the window. Suddenly... all too soon, the scents and smells of french fries and hamburgers were making their ways into his nose, causing him to slightly wrinkle his face with a grin. 

"What a perfect day for a meal at Benny's." He thought to himself. And so Jones proceeded. He jollied on his way over across the street to the small diner and made himself right at home, making each step as loud as possible for others to notice the fancy shoes he was wearing. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp he went. People inside the diner looked down at his feet and then looked back up at his blue tuxedo. 

"What a beautiful tuxedo, sir." One stout and bald man said, tipping his hat.

"Thank you, kind sir." Jones replied, with a gentle nod. He sat down on a red stool at the counter and looked at the menu. Sitting on a stool next to him was Henry Rogers, the parish plumber.

"Where'd ya get them fancy duds?" Rogers asked him.

Jones put the menu down and looked at him and said in a most dignified voice, "Vermont and Sons."

"Vermont and Sons?" Rogers said, "Ain't that the store with all them nice dresses and suits with bells and whistles?"

"No bells, just whistles." Jones joked. He then began to whistle a tune and picked his menu back up and resumed looking at it.

"I hear them duds is expensive." Rogers went on, "Say, how much did ya pay for that one you got on?"

Jones put down the menu once again, "$200, sir."

"$200?!" Rogers cried, "That's more than a commode!"

Jones chuckled and cracked a sly grin, "Indeed. Why, I sold mine so I could purchase this fine suit."

"You sold yer commode?" Rogers asked, eyes growing big.

"Yes." Jones replied. And indeed he did. Jones did sell his one and only toilet so he could sport the finest blue tuxedo in town.

"Why that's nonsense right there." Rogers told him, "What are ya gonna do when you need to use one?"

"Well, all I know is, I do not need to now. That is all that matters." Jones replied.

"Nonsense." Rogers shook his head and then continued eating his steak.

"Miss Gemma," Jones began as the waitress walked over to them, "I'd like a hamburger with fries, and a large vanilla malt."

"Sure thing." She wrote down his order and then walked away. Meanwhile, Jones' outfit was soon the unbidded star of the room. Customers stopped eating their meals and stared long and hard at Jones's fine tuxedo. People from outside were even coming into the diner just to look at it!

"Ery'one's lookin' at yer tuxedo, boy." Rogers told him.

Jones looked around the room and was floored, "Me? My blue tuxedo? Why thank you everyone. Really. I am most flattered!" 

Soon Jones' order was ready and set before him on the counter. Jones took a napkin and stuffed it ever so neatly into his puffed white shirt so he would not get it dirty. He enjoyed his meal, and drank every last drop of his vanilla malt. 

"I still think it's nonsense you sold yer commode just so you could wear that fancy suit." Rogers said as Jones raised his hand for the check.

Gerald Hemingway, the parish newspaper editor, walked into the diner wearing his brown coat. Immediately his eyes became glued to Jones's fancy blue tuxedo and felt he should write a story about it as it had become the talk of the entire town.

"Sir!" He called, hurrying over to Jones with a clipboard and pen under his arm, "Sir, I would like to report a story on you."

Jones looked at him. "Who might I ask are you?"

The editor puffed out his chest, "I am Mr. Gerald Hemingway. Writer and editor of La Fromage Parish. I see a bright future for you, young man. I can turn you and your blue tuxedo into a star. Movies! Magazines! Milk cartons! Your tux could be seen everywhere!"

Jones was surprised at this stranger and his extremely promising offer...should he accept?

"I...do believe, I would like to accept your offer, Mr. Hemingway." he said.

Gerald's eyes grew wider and wider, "That's the spirit. Now if you would, please step outside with me for a second so I can collect a little information from you. Right this way." 

Jones stepped off from the stool and followed Gerald outside the diner. Rogers once again shook his head.