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Bette Davis And Breaking Wind

Bette Davis rides my bus.

I ran to the bus stop this morning (my usual tardiness in full effect), paid my fare while (wheezily) thanking the kindest driver in the world for waiting, and sat down in the only available seat. I then put in my ear buds; permitting Young Love to invade my ear space. Turning to my left, I noticed her.

Bette Davis. On my morning route.

Only this Bette Davis was a very elderly drag queen. With very bad breath.

The Human Fart Machine also rides my bus.

Waiting for mass transit at the end of my day, I noticed a man walking toward the bus shelter. He appeared to be talking to himself. Upon closer inspection, I could see a cell phone in his hand. This hand was attached to a wildly flailing arm. The arm would occasionally refrain from flailing and he would then resume spewing what I could now comprehend as obscenities.

Without warning, the man suddenly held his cell phone centimeters from my face and asked me to loudly state where he was standing.

I, really not wanting any part of this, quietly complied.


I again stated our location, a bit louder this time.

The man then put the cell phone down the back of his pants (yes, exactly where you're thinking), and loudly broke wind.

I've washed my face eleven times since I've been home and I'm walking to work tomorrow.

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