Sign Off
by Michael C.
Keith
“Please sign the
register, monsieur.”
“Okay.”
No, monsieur, sign
the register.
“I just did.”
“No you didn’t,
monsieur.”
“Of course, I did.
What do you call that?”
“Your printed
name.”
“Exactly . . . my signature.”
“That’s not a
signature, monsieur.”
“It’s my name
written by me.”
“A printed name
is not a signature.”
“Huh? It’s my
hand writing.”
“It’s your hand printing,
monsieur.”
“Then what do you want
from me?”
“Your name written in cursive.”
“Why would I write my
name in curses?”
“No, no, monsieur . .
. cursive.”
“Show me what you mean.”
“Of course. Here you
are.”
“That’s curses?
It’s running all together. How could anyone
read that?”
“Someone with a proper
education, perhaps?”
“I had a proper
education, and they didn’t teach me to write
like that?”
“Monsieur? You don’t
under . . .”
“No, you don’t
understand because you write in scribbles.”
“If you don’t
sign in cursive, you’ll have to go
elsewhere.”
“Okay . . . okay . . .
I’ll write in curses. How’s
this: ‘F.U.C.K Y.O.U!’”
“Ah, . . . you
must be an American.”
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