A loose looking gentlemen stood behind the register for a music store as a lady entered. His ruffed soulpatch and slicked back hair almost gave the impression he had rather eclectic taste in merry soul jams.
"Can I help you miss?" Were the last words he got out before she applied her own spell making the store much different than it was.
When she left happy, it was a plaid record store with music not necessarily hip or even attractively novel but bland and obscure, yet acceptable records. It was attended by a bored young women in a lazily put on suit, khacki business shorts and unkempt long hair. She had a dulled look on her face and looked like she'd never even touched a record or listened to a hint of music.
The "Disk and Hangers" shop now sold Records, bird feed and Ties mostly. Atleast, the cashier was fond of ties now, or selling them.
