HOUSE OF PAYNE INTERNATIONAL: Archive
The Archive: Stories
"Grunts + Postures"
by John Payne
Fall 1993
Jon and I pulled into a parking lot in downtown Salt Lake. As we got out of the car, Jon said, "You're gonna love this place. It has clothes, music, and all kinds of cool little cheap junk. It's like the ultimate garage sale. It's kind."
I stood and looked at the door. Warped records from obscure bands formed a border around the entrance to the store, and on the sign below the name "Grunts + Postures" was the slogan "Cool Stuff." Looks all right, I thought. Jon opened the door and we went in.
If anything, the store was more bizarre than I would have expected. The walls were decorated with psychedelic posters and fake silk scarves. On the wall behind the counter were dozens of homemade ads, including "All-girl grunge band needs bass guitarist. Must be able to play at least three chords and scream melodically by Jan. Must be vegetarian (prefer Hindu). Call Tharni for details." Mannequins were scattered about the shop in various states of undress, looking like castoffs from a more respectable store. A sort of New Age music was playing-- a haunting, disembodied sound that contributed to the general feeling of unreality. For a Kansas boy attending The Lord's University, it was a bit of a culture shock. Aside from one old hippie about to leave, the place was empty of customers.
Near the counter was a girl placing clothing on a rack. As she turned to face us, I focused my attention on her six earrings and nose ring. All I could think was Judge not, that ye be not judged. She told us to just yell out if we needed any help. I gave her a friendly smile and we began to look around.
Jon and I split up, he looking for pants, and me for a good flannel shirt. I got to the back of the store, and found an unexpected prize-- a whole rack full of authentic military coats, shirts, and pants. The first one I picked out was a Korean War jacket that had belonged to a US Army captain named McIntyre. Wow! I could own a piece of history, I thought. I began trying on each item, hoping for a good fit. Unfortunately, I wear a size 42 to 44 jacket and I didn't find one larger than size 40. Bummer.
As I tried on clothes, Jon wandered past, disinterested. He hates military gear. He searched through a bin of bow ties, but found nothing he liked. After a while he wandered back up to the front of the store and started talking to the salesgirl. Jon's been clean for about a year, but he still gets along with that type better than I do. I kept at my task and paid no attention to them.
After trying on several jackets, I found a good wool shirt in my size and ran up front to show Jon. He and the girl seemed to be involved in some sort of discussion that she felt very strongly about. Jon shrugged a lot. Must be talking about bands. It didn't really matter to me, and I was eager to show him my authentic WWII GI shirt.
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