Location: Bronx bound 6 train.
Today I had to go to KMart in Astor Place to get a trash can. We have been living without one for quite some time, and I had finally made up my mind that it was time to give in and cough up the cash for a nice home for our garbage. The Duane Reade bags were getting a little old school.
I boarded the 6 train headed towards the Bronx and had the pleasure of sitting next to Hunter S. Thompson. (Note - I of course know this wasn't really Hunter S. Thompson, but the resemblance was remarkable. Right down tot he cowboy hat.) He was chatting away with a plastic surgery victim next to him who I assumed to be his girlfriend. She spoke mediocre english.
Out of no where this man heaves a great sigh and says, "No one cares about me. My life is irrelevant."
To which his girlfriend replies, "Now I told you about the treatments! You can't be like this!"
At about this time Hunter S. Thompson gets severe twitches. He starts elbowing me in the ribs, shaking his head to the point where I thought it was going to fall off, kicking his feet, etc. I wasn't sure if I should say something, or if he had tourettes syndrome.
Plastic surgery victim told me she liked my hair cut, and she and Hunter (mysteriously acting normal now) exited the train.
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1 comment:
once, I was on the train and this guy with tourettes told me I was retarded and then proceeded to tell the rest of the people on the train that they were a 'bunch of niggers' making fun of him bc he had a disease.
tourettes+trains=no good ahahahaha
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