Wabbits

I almost can't see. The old spiked-blonde lady is wearing a perfume that could strip paint with ease, and she is wearing enough of it to recreate the Jonestown massacre on this train.

I want to ask her what scent it is because it is my right to know the cause of my murder.

In other news, I believe in my heart of hearts that Prohibition was repealed because of a phenomenon known as, "Monday."

I'm also being smooshed into the window. This young lady next to me seems nice, but is slowly smashing me. She is reading a Cosmo magazine and drifting to her left. Waaaaaa help!