muhammad "i'm hard" bruce lee.

the things that happen on public transport. makes you wonder why they need tv mobile in the first place. so there was this man sleeping on the bus. big fucking deal, you might say. well but this here man is tired. i mean, the motherfucker is TIRED. he takes seat and throws his bag across 2 other seats. now that can either be construed as an act of sheer inconfuckingsideration or an indication of his need for space. a lady walks up, belligerent, mutters something to another passenger, but sits down on the other side of him; the un-bagged side. he starts dozing off as the journey kicks off. now all would've been a peaceful spectacle but for the fact that he's underestimated the jolt backwards by having placed his bag in front. with his comatose state affording only pittance in the way of defiance towards the laws of physics, his head finds solace in the woman's bosom.

this has the effect of light dealing belligerence a heavy blow to send it reeling. the latter's manager, complaint, is forced to throw in the towel and both in the green corner flee the scene in tears, leaving discomfort and embarrassment standing proud in the middle of the ring. the woman departs for another seat, but brings fatigue with it, dragging it along all the way to the floor. literally. the man finds himself, surprisingly conscious, and sprawled on all fours, facing layer upon layer of dust. perturbed, he proceeds to gather up his coins that'd fallen out of his breast pocket, and resumes his wait perhaps not knowing what had just transpired. cos he starts dozing off again as soon as he resumes his seat. this time, he gives full consideration for the afore-mentioned jolt by slanting his head forwards, but commits the error of OVERestimation. thus the cabin watches with bated breath as his head dips ever lower towards his bag. and with consternation as a sliver of drool escapes his loose jaws to fall just short of the bag and onto the empty seat between him and said bag.

he awakens once again perhaps due to gravity acting against his neck joint. and discovers the emittance of mouth juice perhaps, cos he proceeds to surreptitiously attempt to cover it up, if not wipe it off, by drawing his bag to his side. the cabin is now treated to an exercise in valiance and willpower as he combats slumber with the admirable but well-known-to-be-completely-useless activity of - leg-shaking.

and so the ball passes to and fro over the net. reminds me of another occurrence some time back, when there was this guy who would not awaken however much i jabbed and spoke to him. then again perhaps that guy was dead.