I had a rough afternoon yesterday, I'm still trying to scrub the damage from my mind.
Heading for the trains (sans Shuster) I witnessed a horrible wreck in the form of a big girl coming towards me on her bicycle. Her fashion choices included a very low cut and loose tank top, the kind you see Walmart women wearing. She also chose not to wear a bra despite owning a very large pair of sloppy and free-swinging boobs complete with stretch marks on them. She obviously owns the Mirror of Denial whereby her reflection reveals a perky, high and youthfully tight chest. The road was bumpy, it was horrendous. I shed many tears and my eyesight took forever to return. The itching took longer to subside.
On the train, a middle-aged she-beast walks by in a mini-skort although I doubt it was made to be a "mini". The skort stretched mightily around her hips, why didn't she pull them down? Must I bear witness to the remnants of her shorts, the fabric not already devoured by her wobbly butt jowls? What better way to end the scene than to have her daintily bend over in front of my delicate eyes as material not made of cloth flapped around?
When I thought peace had finally arrived the female beside me let a silent one rip.
When will the spasms stop, the cold sweats abate and the rocking end? Cleanse me, purge my mind, make the bad pictures stop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
The way you describe it all, it is as if I were there. Man I am glad I wasn't there though.
*shudder*
Post a Comment