Driving is always a harrowing experience. That is why I prefer public transportation. It also affords me time to read books. I have just finished a saucy tale about a stolen bag of money and a fellow determined to get it back.
I was engaged in such reading when a fellow passenger posited a question to me. I don't know why. I didn't give him the impression I wished to engage in verbal intercourse.
Yet he persisted, yabbering on and on about his injured knee, his addict son, his lack of funds, the weather, the young lady seated near the driver, politics and what's playing at the cinema.
Despite his infringement on my right to silence, I'm the one cited by officers for shoving a golf ball into his mouth. What a world! O tempora! O mores!
As always, excuse the lenthy space of time since my last post. I've been on the lam. Apparently it is unadvisable to play tricks on the frightful goblins that knock on one's door during the Halloween holiday.
3 comments:
No joke, my daughter got THE best Halloween trick dropped in her bag this year, a used 1970's Luther Vandross cassette tape!
Golf? You had a golf ball to hand?
And here's me thinking you were a man of taste.
You were well within your rights to gag him. Reading a book is the internationally recognised public transport commuter sign for "leave me the fuck alone".
You can reinforce the message by having an iPod/walkman/radio and earphones. But you have to listen to that same "ss-sss-ss-sss-ss-sss" music that everyone seems to like.
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