Thursday, September 21, 2006


It was a quiet ride and I was wearing this punk all-black outfit with black tights. I fell asleep with Panic At The Disco and found my mouth open with a little dribble on the side. I was in Taft and spotted KFC---the signal that I'm near school. I gripped the head rest in front of me and got ready to go down.

Not a bad Wednesday, I told myself: not a lot of traffic, the aircon is cool, and no one is being obnoxious.

While ruminating about these wonderful things, the pregnant woman beside me vomited. On my hand. On my skirt. As I stared and blinked at my barf-covered self, the only thing that (after winning against the bile rising up my throat) came out of my mouth was 'oh'.


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