Hi there, it's me, the girl in brown who had been sitting diagonally across from you last night? One quad over? Next to the guy that was talking about delivering his grandkittens ... Yeah ... listen... you stank, dude.
You got on at Danforth, flicked your cigarette and blew smoke into the train as you boarded. That was nice. I enjoyed that.
You threw your filthy bag that smelled like sour milk onto the seat and then threw your feet up onto the seat across from you. Once settled, you pried off your sneakers revealing filthy socks that looked like they were white at one time.
The smell made me gag. The wafting smell coming off of you, a combination of stale cigarettes, dry sweat and B.O., is what forced me to eventually move.
But what really got me, and I am sure your mama taught you some manners, was that you had this hacking cough and made no attempt to cover your mouth as you spewed saliva and germs with each bronchial emission.
I'm sure you're a hit with the ladies!
At least you listened when that other lady politely asked you to put your shoes back on. I was too busy preparing my blow torch. You were lucky this time.
This probably should have come with a warning. But the good news is that I can finish my brownie later... I think.
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