Tuesday, April 03, 2007

How Many Times Did the Guy on The Train Just Make Love to Me?


Before I tell you the answer, let me tell you the background:

The lady across from me was wearing a yellow raincoat and carried a duck face-handled wood umbrella. She watched my every move.

The girl to her right was showing too much tit for the weather (Good weather is directly proportional to the tit visibility factor. Today wasn't that nice).

The guy to Titties' right had actually used the chest strap on his back pack. He had pork chop sideburns.

And to my right was a drunk. Ah, so we meet on even playing grounds, my friend.

I guessed his drink of choice: "Dirty martini. Not shaken. Not stirred. Not dirty. Just the bottle." Or so ordered his breath.

Here's how the rest of the conversation went:

Breath: I just lost $50,000 in Vegas.
Me: That sucks. You should have just given it to the blind guy playing the little piano/harmonica thing over there.
Breath: I'm going to my apartment in Queens. I lived there for two years and I have to change a light bulb. I'm an electrical engineer, you know?
Me: How many electrical engineers does it take to change a light bulb?
Breath: Three? One to hold the light bulb; two to turn the ladder?
Me: No, that's a blond joke. It just takes one electrical engineer. But it takes him 3 days.
Breath: One to hold the light bulb?
Me: Yes, we've covered that.
Breath: I liked that girl's tights. They had a bunch of holes in them. I like holes.
Me: That guy over there has a hole in his jacket. Do you like his hole?
Breath: I want to do you from behind and flip you around and make you breakfast. Bacon, eggs, omelets?
Me: Bacon: extra crispy. Do you make biscuits and gravy?
Breath: Do you know how many times I just made love to you?
Me: That's a good line. Does it work for you?
Breath: That girl's tights really turned me on. I like you better, though. If you were only wearing heels.
Me: [I look down at my running shoes] What; these? These here are real salt of the earth shit.

Here we got to my stop and Mr. Breath proceeded to follow me out of the train to ask for my phone number. Duck-faced umbrella handle watched it all--ask her. Titties will back her up. When I declined, Breath hopped back on the train to go change his light bulb.

I don't actually know how many times the guy on the train just made love to me. How many licks does it take to get to the tootsie roll center of the tootsie roll tootsie pop? One. Two. Threeeeeeeeeeee. The world will never know.

2 comments:

genevieve said...

found you on gawker..fantastic! love it!

Gigi said...

Thanks Genevieve!