“Do you sell kilts?” the man asked.
“No, sir, just bagpipes,” the man behind the table responded.
“How about tartan scarves?” another prospective customer asked.
“Just bagpipes, ma’am.”
A man walked up to the proprietor and said, “I’m looking for a Scottish sporran, but I don’t see any on display.”
“That’s because we make and sell bagpipes,” he said, pointing to the banner behind him.
A lady with a perplexed look on her face asked, “Scottish clan tumblers?”
“Sorry, lady, our specialty is bagpipes,” the man answered. “Only bagpipes.”
The next customer explained that he used to have a pewter hip flask with an engraved Scottish piper on it. “I don’t suppose you have one of those, do you?” he asked.
The guy manning the booth finally lost it. He threw down his water bottle and started to shout. “What the fook is wrong with you fooking people? I am a bagpipe maker. I make and sell bagpipes. Not kilts, not scarves, not tumblers, not sporrans, not flasks. Just bagpipes. Only bagpipes. Can’t you fookers read?”
And with that, the guy told everyone to get out of his booth. “I’m done,” he shouted, and started packing up his bagpipes.
Written for Susan Spaulding’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt. Photo credit: C.E. Ayr.