My friend Matt Zandusky lives at Bloor and Mount Pleasant. Every few days he calls with a bullshit story about some celebrity whom he saw shopping for luggage, or walking a cat. Last week he called to tell me that he was in the Mount Pleasant Shoppers Drug Mart, standing behind Alice Munro.
"David, she's buying Tampax."
"How do you know who Alice Munro is?"
"I saw her in the 'paper."
"It's not Alice Munro."
"It is. I'm telling you, it is."
"Is she paying with a credit card?"
"She's not at the register yet."
"Alice Munro doesn't shop at Shoppers Drug Mart. She orders direct from Lourdes."
"This is Alice Munro. Wait! She's at the counter. Damn, she's paying with cash. She just took out a hundred. Can you believe that? Wow, look at that roll. She's got about a four-inch wad of cash in her hand."
"I'll talk to you later, Matt."
"Maybe she's buying them for her daughter. Or her granddaughter."
"Maybe."
"This is a mystery, Dave. A real mystery."
"Tap her on the shoulder. Ask."
"You think I should?"
"Yeah. Absolutely.'
So he tapped her on the shoulder; he asked. "Excuse me. Are you Alice Munro? The writer?"
"No."
"You look just like her."
"I'm not her."
"Doing some shopping today?"
"None of your business."
"My friend loves your work."
"I am not Alice Munro."
"Okay. Fine. Have it your way. Nice dress, by the way. I think it's inside-out."
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