Passport To France

Sam Davenport stared at himself, in his passport .His graying, wispy hair barely seemed to be able to traverse the breadth of his head. Those photographers, you can never trust them with photographs .he looked mournful. Not pensive or contemplative as Lucy had said comfortingly before he left, but mournful. Pah ! Women, they would never understand men.
Sam looked back at his photograph. Those photographers, they always make you look worse than you actually are. His hair really did seem to be extremely sparse for a man of fifty three.He patted the top of his head just to make sure it hadn’t vanished in the last ten minutes.
And the double chin .He had never had one before, but that blasted photographer had made him bend his head downwards, towards his chest, to “make sure your nose fits in the frame”. The arrogant toerag. Didnt he know that a long nose was a sign of aristocracy. No one in his family had ever had a double chin or any excess fat to speak of, except aunt Sarah who was just weird in that way. He also seemed to sport a few straggling hairs at the end of his chin..No doubt the photographer ‘forgot’ to touch up the photograph. The Davenports prided themselves on being a clean shaven lot, again with the exception of Aunt Sarah. Once he returned from France he would have a stern word with that photographer, he would...
“Excuse me ,”said the old man in front of Sam ,”is there a problem with my passport, as I hope to reach France before the next millenium”. Sam looked up, startled, to see an entire line of people queued up in front of him. Behind the old man was a young boy with rather odd teeth, like a chimpanzees, trying hard not to laugh.
“No, no” said Sam hastily stamping the passport” no problem at all sir, enjoy your flight”. The old man walked away ,mumbling indistinctly.
Sam davenport stared at himself, in his passport, his odd teeth seemed to make him look a bit like a chimpanzee. Those dentists, you could never trust them with teeth…….

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