The first thing Carrie did however was grab John's clothes and rip them off him one swoop. She then rolled them up into a ball and threw them into a garbage can that happened to have a basket ball hoop over it. A score light click on as she made the shot.
"Carrie!" John covered himself.
"Don't worry dear, we're both rated PG. That means you've got nothing to worry about."
John looked between his legs, then he began wondering what exactly he had been embarrassed or worried about.
"Now come along dear, and-oh! Check these out!" Carrie dragged him to stand that was selling gloves.
"Hello madam, sir, would you care to be decent?" Asked the flea that was apparently running the flea market.
"These gloves aren't stolen are they?" John found himself asking rather than Carrie having rendered him 'indecent' and now the flea was asking if they'd like to be decent.
"Oh I assure you sir, I've never been found guilty or served time for anything I've sold here at my fine establishment."
John thought about how that didn't answer the question while Carrie asked about the price of the white gloves.
"For lovely couples such as yourselves? They're on the house! Consider them incentive to stay longer!"
The flea handed the couple two pairs of white gloves.
"Carrie, what are you up to?"
"Well duh, toon are really decent without some white gloves to wear."
"Well, if we're that animation style that is, I don't think we're really Tex Avery style though."
"Oh just wear them hansom."
Carrie put on the pair of gloves, followed by John. It felt like they bounded with his hands, but at the same time, he felt whole, complete with them.
"Now let's check out some of these attractions already!" Carrie pulled him along.
"Come again!" Waved the flea.