Recently spotted on the subway platform
October 4th, 2006
I wanted to cry.
And it wasn’t even mine.
If your breakfast sandwich goes splat and you can’t bear to touch it again, the least you can do is kick it onto the tracks. Then other commuters don’t have to look at it and get even hungrier. Plus, rats just love bacon.egg.and.cheese.
Despite there being 20,000 other places for me to stand and wait for the train, I ended up leaning against the column nearest the breakfast sandwich (BS). Each minute was sadder and sadder. Out of anything to show up in my life at that moment, why did it have to be a destroyed BS? I mourned the wasted food, the pain the BS must have suffered from the shock, and the fact that I wasn’t currently eating it. I could even smell the bacon. That bacon looks crunchy.
I even played a challenging mind game wherein I counted out how long I could look away from the BS until my eyes darted back again. (19 seconds.) That was fun, especially the self-loathing periods right after I caved.
Wait, is that shredded lettuce? What kind of BS is this? I call bullshit.
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