To the couple sucking face in line
Hey.
You don’t know me, but I know you. You don’t know me? No? Really? You must’ve noticed. Really? Fine. Let me remind you…
I was the guy who was in line at the grocery store. Still nothing? Ok, I was the guy who was standing there, behind you, while you sucked face for - what it seemed like - hours. Fuck, people. I haven’t seen salivary glands produce that much drool since Turner and Hooch.
I know that bag of Doritos must be a total turn-on, but... Jesus. What the hell would happen if you bought a super-sized bag? Would you fuck, right there on the conveyer belt, under the scanner?
Thankfully, you can also buy condoms and KY in aisle five (and a pregnancy test, just in case).
But, I shouldn’t judge. I don’t know what your situation is. Maybe you have to use your tongues to give each other thorough, oral cleanings because you don’t own a toothbrush, toothpaste and floss, and you can’t afford to go to the dentist on a regularly basis.
Or, it could be that you find produce to be sexually stimulating.
Either way, stop. Just stop. Don’t do it for me, but do it for the rest of the people in line who are trying to look to the side, but can’t. It’s like a car crash: everyone has to have a look at the atrocity that lies splattered in their field of vision.
It’s so revolting that my milk is turning into cheese while I wait.
And I could overlook all of that if you were even remotely attractive. You don’t even qualify for ugly! That’s right, you two, you’re super fuckin’ ugly. Sufugly.
So, please, do me a favour and take it to your place. Stop following me around. Don’t go to the coffee shop when I need a quick fix of caffeine. Don’t go on public transit where you alienate everyone who has to smoosh past you because you can't detach at the lip. Don't go anywhere and stay home.
Stay far, far away from the rest of the populace with sensitive gag reflexes.
Oh, you’re next in line, by the way. Can you hear me? Hey! You. Hello?
Fuck it. Just go to aisle five and get it over with.
Best,
Steven.
Note: The line of the new year has to be, “Well, good luck returning my ass!” courtesy of Wilhelmina Slater.
You don’t know me, but I know you. You don’t know me? No? Really? You must’ve noticed. Really? Fine. Let me remind you…
I was the guy who was in line at the grocery store. Still nothing? Ok, I was the guy who was standing there, behind you, while you sucked face for - what it seemed like - hours. Fuck, people. I haven’t seen salivary glands produce that much drool since Turner and Hooch.
I know that bag of Doritos must be a total turn-on, but... Jesus. What the hell would happen if you bought a super-sized bag? Would you fuck, right there on the conveyer belt, under the scanner?
Thankfully, you can also buy condoms and KY in aisle five (and a pregnancy test, just in case).
But, I shouldn’t judge. I don’t know what your situation is. Maybe you have to use your tongues to give each other thorough, oral cleanings because you don’t own a toothbrush, toothpaste and floss, and you can’t afford to go to the dentist on a regularly basis.
Or, it could be that you find produce to be sexually stimulating.
Either way, stop. Just stop. Don’t do it for me, but do it for the rest of the people in line who are trying to look to the side, but can’t. It’s like a car crash: everyone has to have a look at the atrocity that lies splattered in their field of vision.
It’s so revolting that my milk is turning into cheese while I wait.
And I could overlook all of that if you were even remotely attractive. You don’t even qualify for ugly! That’s right, you two, you’re super fuckin’ ugly. Sufugly.
So, please, do me a favour and take it to your place. Stop following me around. Don’t go to the coffee shop when I need a quick fix of caffeine. Don’t go on public transit where you alienate everyone who has to smoosh past you because you can't detach at the lip. Don't go anywhere and stay home.
Stay far, far away from the rest of the populace with sensitive gag reflexes.
Oh, you’re next in line, by the way. Can you hear me? Hey! You. Hello?
Fuck it. Just go to aisle five and get it over with.
Best,
Steven.
Note: The line of the new year has to be, “Well, good luck returning my ass!” courtesy of Wilhelmina Slater.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
11 Comments:
There must be something in the perineal, er, perennial Canadian cold that makes Canadians hot.
My wife tells that her mother used to blast the car horn if she was stopped at a red light behind a couple that used the break to neck or kiss.
omg! That is definitely the line of the year! I love me some Wilhelmina Slater!
Did you enjoy your day off yesterday?
Oh was that YOU behind us? Sorry.
I watched Ugly Betty last night too! I loved that line.
I love it when you're an eeevil troll.
Heart breaker.
kb
So, weren't you turned on in the least? Not even a little? Not even a little nudge in your shorts? Nothing? Nada? Sounds hot...public sex and all.
I don't mean to be facetious but the thought of doing it on the conveyor belt is kinda hot. ;)
What, the ugly can't drool now? That, and insulting bacalhau. Dude, hell has a special cod-serving, drool-inducing place for heathens like you!
Bloody hell, now I'll have to come back.
PMSL...(Not Literally)
Usually when I see a couple exchanging fluids in public I can only envy them...Oh how I wish I could be like that and not worry about the looks of disdain...*winks* Wanna try it?
The line of the new year has to be, “Well, good luck returning my ass!” courtesy of Wilhelmina Slater.
HELLS yes.
BTW - the word verification for this comment was gagomyah
I thought it would be appropriate to mention that.
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