If I had a jacket with numerous interior pockets--let's there were fifty of them--I would take fifty sheets of paper and write out fifty random things someone might conceivably say, not everyday things like "Please pass the pesto," but unusual, memorable lines, like "The pandas at this zoo are wholly substandard," or "I never thought you would have the gall to show your smarmy face in Poughkeepsie again." Then I would fold up each paper, put each in its own envelope, seal the envelopes, and place one envelope in each interior pocket of my jacket. I'd need some sort of system so that I'd know immediately just which envelope was in which pocket.
And then I'd just wait, I'd go around wearing the jacket everyday, people would grow to associate it with me until they thought nothing of it. They wouldn't know of the envelopes. And eventually, wholly by chance, someone would happen to utter one of the lines I'd written down: "Who knows what dark urges lurk in the heart of this adorable puppy," or whatever. I would immediately reach into the correct interior pocket and--without explanation--hand them the envelope. (It's important here that they not see all the other envelopes.) They would unseal the envelope, and there it would be: "Who knows what dark urges lurk in the heart of this adorable puppy." They would look into my face in astonishment. "I had a feeling you might say that," I would tell them, and then I'd turn around and walk away. It would be worth the effort, I think.
If I had a jacket with numerous interior pockets.
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