There are days when terror grips my sight, and I am blinded by bad clothing decisions that are a cross between Safety and Carnival.
Other days I have to hear terrible music, screaming babies, and/or mutterings from the mouths of undereducated idiots espousing opinions that are baseless and prejudice.
Today however is a full-frontal attack on my olfactory system. The whole car smells like a moldy camping tent freshly picked from a moist basement after six or sixty years. Bad perfume, worse breath, and I'm relatively certain the guy next to me just sharted.
There is little escape. No earbuds or napping eyes to block this. I have my face in my shirt trying not to pass out. Just kill me now.
*You never go full-retard.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.