Kingdom Come
First thing I hear when I get on the bus one Saturday: “I already been in prison. I don’t wanna die.” Me neither, guy. Me neither.
The word face is too small to call my face that. My face needs a bigger word. Like
countenance.
When I was younger, I used to think that there was some sort of nerve connection from my
sides to my rectum. Yup. Seriously. Someone would poke me in the side, and then
the next thing you know, I’d become a human space shuttle launch. Still not sure what that odd, twisted anatomical confusion was about. I wonder where Kingdom Come is because I’ve sent a few folks there. And where is Smithereens?
——-
Based on an actual conversation on public transportation:
SHE: Hey, excuse me, do you mind if I open the window?
HE: I do mind.
SHE: Oh, ok.
HE: Why do you want it open?
SHE: Um, because it’s hot in here.
HE: You can’t open the window. You can’t just come here in interfere with the environment
that everyone else is sharing. You’ll introduce germs into the bus air.
SHE: Huh? Bus air? Are you serious?
HE: (brief pause) I am.
SHE: The only thing I’d introduce into this bus is fresh air.
HE: You know, the surgeon general says that an introduction of germs from one environment
into another makes a bad environment.
SHE: Are you for real?
HE: Plus, there’s a government conspiracy to infect–
SHE: Doesn’t the surgeon general work for the government? What are you talking abo—Stop
talking to me!
HE: I’m just saying. You wanted to roll down the window. You’re the one who wants to make
us all sick.
SHE: By getting some fresh air in here?! If anything, the germs in here would escape and go
outside. It’s fifty million degrees in here, dude! Everybody’s sweating. Hell, even
you’re sweating! Open the damn window!
HE: I can’t do that.
SHE: Fine.
She slides over to another seat and cracks open another window.
Immediately, the stuffy air is replaced with crisp, fresh air sent from God.
He puts on a surgical mask.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 