I had no choice but to sit beside a pothead (that was the last empty seat). He was in a very chatty mood although he could barely sit up straight. As a gesture of friendship he asked me whether I wanted gum and I politely declined. Before I knew it he was taking out the gum he had been chewing from his mouth and handing it to me. When he sensed my distaste, he got upset and grumbled about how standoffish and unsociable I was till he lulled himself to sleep.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Once Upon a Time on a Greyhound Bus
I had no choice but to sit beside a pothead (that was the last empty seat). He was in a very chatty mood although he could barely sit up straight. As a gesture of friendship he asked me whether I wanted gum and I politely declined. Before I knew it he was taking out the gum he had been chewing from his mouth and handing it to me. When he sensed my distaste, he got upset and grumbled about how standoffish and unsociable I was till he lulled himself to sleep.
I had no choice but to sit beside a pothead (that was the last empty seat). He was in a very chatty mood although he could barely sit up straight. As a gesture of friendship he asked me whether I wanted gum and I politely declined. Before I knew it he was taking out the gum he had been chewing from his mouth and handing it to me. When he sensed my distaste, he got upset and grumbled about how standoffish and unsociable I was till he lulled himself to sleep.
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7 comments:
In light of this post, it is only appropriate that I provide the following disclaimer:
YES, I AM THAT POTHEAD...(raggedy icon of a plutocrat's nightmare), and I did have ulterior motives for our ill-fated journey. BLIMEY!
As for Ms. Ajaira, I'm pleased to announce that (with her near-stoic resignation) she has most definitely transcended variant forms of oral fixation. Hurrah!
Mr Pothead, Are you calling me a plutocrat for refusing recycled gum? Maybe you're right.... I was a tad bit on the high-maintenance end. Afterall it shouldn't matter whether you are being offered chewed gum or rotting fish. It's the thought that counts.
Regards
Transformed Ms Ajaira
Part Deux: Irony and pertinent atrocities
Dear transmogrified Ajaira,
I concur, it is the thought that counts; but then again, who's counting?! Anyhoos, I'll save that hoot for another rawhide...
In the meantime:
After you had escaped "THE HOUND" the empty seat became occupied by a rather hefty fella (reminiscent of a scary biker with strange tattoos in even stranger places) who did catch my bluff (with the gum). The horror of it all! Oh the humanity! I couldn't run to save my hide...not only he took me up on the offer, he made me "sit on his lap"...shiver me timbers! Suffice it to say, he barely managed a coo out of me and the rest is history down the gutter as I remain "HOUND"ed by 'em sore memories...
On a totally related note, have you had any BORSCHT lately?
Amicably yours,
Mr. P-Head
p.s. PLUTOCRAT (as opposed to ELITIST) was used as a "term of endearment"...an apropos expression given my semiotic conceit.
:o)
yummmmm.... i love my borsct with a side order of chewed gum marinated in rotten fish.
Whoa! So you've been to St. Petersburg as well, eh?! How I miss that whiff of rotten fish *sigh*...I've often pondered about the discursive transition of the Russian intelligentsia into the entrepreneurial structure of the crime syndicate...I can bet my peanut of a paycheck that the diminishing marginal utility of BORSCHT has something to do with it!
Never been to St Peterburg (but it's on my list of places to visit)..... When I was in California one summer, I came home to find a HUGE pot of viscous red liquid sitting in the kitchen counter. Of course, I ran inside and did a quick headcount of my roommates to make sure none of them have been slain to provide the ingredients for this strange soup. Thankfully they all had a head on their shoulders (pun intended :-)). So I went ahead and helped myself to some borscht
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