Only in America

Imagine this to happen in your own small space, yes small space is key here because an extrapolation here would be unimaginable - rather unbearable.

Sitting in a bus, plugged into your own personal music franticism (Don't bother with the dictionary, I made it up...bad vocabulary...inferiority complex...whatever u may call it) wondering what your own little world is heading to. Your favorite song ends on a happy note and then there's static flowing through those headphones. Sad, very sad that its not a noise-canceling bose that you're wearing; the screeching accent, the shrill laughter and blitzkrieg speed of bosh runs wild and free all around you, yeah you were wondering for a while why the realization seems so painful....one bit at a time baby(like the SHA-512 algorithm)...

Two human beings each sitting on either side of your better halves(Don't bother for alternatives....human beings is the closest you can get in an attempt to compare) rattling away to glory....a grin...a squeak...a fluttery barrage of butterfly language....and ofcourse how can one forget this terrible understatement - body language (they could write a whole dialect with just those actions - ASL should be keeping a watch - they might just run out of business)....and there's this fellow comrade sitting right across you giving that helpless look (Look around man, we're just outnumbered - terribly).

His facial reactions give a hint of reassurance (I'm in the same shit-hole buddy)....was it!! or am I imagining already....and there's this long Heartland express blinding-shining container that whizzes past and I catch a sorry glimpse of my lineaments....no prizes for guessing....am looking as helpless as my countryman sitting right across inside the safety of the bus....The irony (don't ask me why...lets assume it's being used just because that damn figure of speech was invented) was that I see a sticker pasted across the window that says "Safe Place Call 1-800-232-5980" and I was seriously contemplating about it. What if this goes on and we end up in cutting fish and chicken that were to be served raw to someone who was willing to dollar the restauranteur just because raw food was hep and what mattered more while he was eating wasn't his taste buds but what he could reason out to his colleagues and subordinates an hour later - why his fart smelled funny.

And now to the part which everyone loves...."the blame game"....will be continued in my next instalment...

What the hel i'l probably refarin from using any double L's from now on....

I don't want to get sued over plagiarism....over some dumb ol' pictures
Image Courtesy: http://www.cinepad.com/images/dazed2a.jpg