Spitting Distance
Ok, so I'm walking in to work, I'm not particularly tired, but I do have a revolutionary crick in my neck. I'm minding my own business and thinking, "Ok, let's get Tuesday out of the way" when I notice the scraggly-bearded guy with the beer belly standing in the doorway to my building. Smoking. Which is fine. I don't particularly care. I mean if he wants to dress in sad sack clothes and hang out in front of buildings downtown he's allowed, right? He's just being him.
I'm enjoying the breeze. I'm walking. He coughs. What's that? Rain? No. It's not rain. It's saliva. I've just been baptised by the fat guy in the doorway thanks to a good head wind.
Yummy.
I'm enjoying the breeze. I'm walking. He coughs. What's that? Rain? No. It's not rain. It's saliva. I've just been baptised by the fat guy in the doorway thanks to a good head wind.
Yummy.
posted by k_sra at 8/24/2004 10:45:00 AM
3 Comments:
You're slipping, special agent [k]. This was clearly a trap set by our enemy designed to test out the new strain of anthrax and it's effectiveness on our agents. The fact that you wrote this shows that their workaround for our inoculation has failed.
p.s. Are you sure this is a secure transmission?
This particular transmission was pretty secure. There was an earlier insecure post which may interest you. I would like to be referred to from now on as "special [k]". Thank you.
Shoulda kicked him in the privates, then follwed with an uppercut while he was bent over in agony from the kick. Then in a kind gentle vioce, explain to him why people need to control thier saliva without a rebuttle. Maybe even sing it to him, it would be good practice for your Idol auditions.
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