Broken Stars
He was wearing a brown corduroy sports coat and had some thick stubble. He was actually pretty attractive. She checked her boobs, ran her hand through her hair and sipped her vodka tonic from a cocktail straw as she walked over to him. But when she got there, she noticed the star above his head was broken.
She tried to tell him, but he didn’t seem to get what she was saying. The music was pretty loud. She tried to fix it for him while the danced, but it was really broken. Like there was no way to even make it have five points. She explained it, but he seemed to interpret this as some weird Jew joke.
“Too bad,” she thought, “He was cute. Seemed like he could’ve been fun. But I’m sick of guys whose stars above their heads are broken.”
