On my way home from work, I passed a place called Frank Young Tailors. I was in need of a frank, young person to give me feedback on what I was wearing, so naturally, I stopped in. The guy behind the counter was anything but young. I let it slide, figuring the sign hadn't been updated very recently. I asked him what he thought of my attire and he refused to give me his honest opinion. "You're not frank at all!" i declared.
"I know," he said, "I'm Rich."
"All the more reason to be frank," i told him.
"What?" he inquired.
Anyway, I guess it's his brother who owns the place and he's out of town until after Memorial Day.