At the CVS checkout line, I'm swiping my card and the creepy guy in line behind me gets closer. It's been a few days since his last shower, and when he gets to the point where he can whispers into my ear I can practically feel his scruffy 5 o'clock shadow against me.
"Are you Timmy?" he asks.
I try to create space between him and myself, but since I'm at the front of the line there's only so much I can do.
"No," I say.
"Oh, OK. 'Cuz you kinda look like Timmy."
For future reference, just because I "kinda look like" someone named Timmy doesn't mean you can violate my personal space.
No comments:
Post a Comment