Without a doubt, the hat makes the man.

Douglas VanHornersmeltser knew this. He also knew that without removing his hat, the bald spot atop his head would never receive the proper tan he needed for his date at precisely 7 p.m. on the night of Saturday the 11th of January.

A prudent New Englander, Douglas had rarely ventured to concern himself with tanning, his chaste, leathery skin almost always coated in the finest sheer of exfoliated heaven. Yet on this very occasion he sought the affections of the lady up 12th Avenue, Lydia Snout.

An elegant woman with slender legs and round bosoms, he knew — without a doubt, not a single one — that she would be most displeased to see his scalp without a tan, should he observe his proper manners and remove his cap in her presence.

Naturally, a prudent New Englander such as himself had good reason to bother himself with such things as scalp etiquette. The hat makes the man, after all!

In a split-second, the answer came to him, and he rushed off down the cobble stones to meet his destiny.

When they met, precisely at 7 p.m., Douglas raised his cap in greeting and a shiny red sheen shone out from under the green hat