I hadn’t been to Shorty’s Place for one reason: I thought it would be a cliché.
When you have to use fractions to describe your height, you know you’re a shorty. I assumed a bartender would ring a bell every time someone shorter than 5 feet, 5 inches walked in the door. So hanging out at a place named Shorty’s seemed, well, tailor-made for Munchkin, Oompa Loompa or Webster jokes (take your pick).
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