The Funk Factor, Public Transit Style
For two days in a row, there has been a foul odor on the evening bus.Nope. Don't look at me. I did not let loose the odiferious escapee now permeating the air we breathe. Maybe it was that guy who just walked by. Or the man whose rounded belly is rumbling and shaking as he snoozes. It could just be THE BUS!
Maybe this is one of those fuel-efficiency experiments where the bus is powered by methane and sulfur produced by manure and rotten eggs. It may not smell pretty, but at least it's biodegradable and reduces our dependence on fossil fuels, eh?
Whatever the reason, on the second night, it was just too much for the well-coifed woman who sat across from me. I'd plugged into my 'Pod and posted my index finger like a lever at my nostrils to control the amount of stench allowed to enter.
I looked over at the woman. She gave me a knowing glance and had proceeded to do the same maneuver with her finger. Two blocks with the stink was enough for her, though. She popped up from her seat and bounded down the stairs out the back door.
I had one weapon she did not have. I'd put on my chocolate mint lip gloss, making the ride much sweeter -- and definitely more bearable!
Syndicate Me!
2 Comments:
Shamelessly reprising my huckleberry lipbalm life-saving exercise.
I see how you are.
Damn straight, Zes! Learn from the best and forget the rest.
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