i'm trying to pass a few days because i sit on the precipice of many life-changing events. if i take the usual route, i'll flip out and take god's name in vain and kill a person or two. but if i keep to my own affairs, maybe, and god knows MAYBE... something great will happen. it never has.
if all things work to the good of those that love the lord, then i am positive i will never see the end result of that proclamation. maybe my room in hell will have an extra wide peephole or at least a loop film that proves me right about all those who've worshipped their hatred of me.
i went to the library yesterday to use a couple hours of wi-fi. my usual table was taken, so i worked my way toward those that still the air. and no more than a minute past sitting, there he came, mr. snotty-spotty pants and his reflecting drool (with a splash or two of crusty-dried urine).
i remained in my composed rage as i awaited the complimentary phlegmnastics or even the cosmos altering sniff.
there was nothing.
i actually engrafted to the moment and forgot, sans the aroma, that he was there.
in the unfamiliar territory of my autonomy and oneness, my shyest eye caught him raising his rectum from the chair to poot as loudly as he could. river-fried bologna, bits of newspapers and the disgust of his natural mother wafted through the air. and it stank even past his presence...
i stared in amazement. not at him, but in that i believed for any amount of time that he could, knowing i was within ear-eye-noseshot, ever keep from doing it...
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