Too Little Too Late

I have too little energy and I've gotten home too late.

The hobgoblins in my mind have been quieted by exhaustion. Not a creature is stirring, not even a louse. Actually, it's possible there may be a louse in my beard. I was on the bus coming home, and a man who looked like a black version or Ernest P. Worrell - he was even dressed like him - boarded and sat down beside me; much like the spider. Except his curds and whey, I suspect, were of the psychoactive variety. His face looked like it was playing a fierce game of twister. One eye shut Popeye tight, his lower lip curled back into his opened mouth, tongue flailing, his nose flared outwards as it struggled to touch the tip of his forehead.

Passengers stared at me conveying sympathy; I was the chosen one. He twitched and jerked his head around erratically as though disturbed by sounds emitted on a frequency only he could hear. His eyes met mine a few times as I looked toward the window to see what stop we were at, but they would always quickly avert. Out of my periphery I saw him wildly scratching at the hair under his khaki-colored hat, as though he were trying to use friction to start a wildfire on his scalp. I could've sworn I saw a black dot leap out, like someone from a burning building, right into my beard. The only thing I could do was cough loudly and shift my weight to alert him to cease scratching. I didn't want to make a scene on the bus because I had little proof that a louse had infested me, and he looked like he may have bit my nose off if I had opened my mouth to protest.

Then, an idea. I had horrendous gas all day. I mean really bad. The kind of gas that you wish you had a mask to protect you from. I think it was from some bad tahini that had been the dressing for the kale I had picked up from Whole Foods. Whatever the culprit was, I had begun emitting a fetid odor from my ass so noxious and putrid that I'm certain it was capable of causing lung cancer. Like a vile reeking radon gas leaking from my ass, peeling paint and rusting metal. I decided it was time to fight fire with fire, and looking at him with shock, I let one loudly belch from my anus, while wearing a mask of utter contempt and disgust. The polite smiles of women across from us soured and curdled like milk as the air became clumpy and perfumed with the smell of rot and decay. Wide eyed, galloping in his seat as though riding a horse, he stuttered "It wadn't me, it wadn't, it wad, it wad him!" as he pointed at me.

"How dare you," I said.