My Last Day on Earth

I am dying. I have decided this will be the last day I live because I can surely never recover from this head cold. Yesterday, a woman sat on me on the 71A. Sat ON me. I was in the long row seats which face the aisle and the passengers opposite you. I was in the corner one near the rear of the bus, with three other seats to my right. Open seats. A very enormously fat woman sauntered down the aisle, clinging those hanging straps like they were parachute rip cords. I knew what was going to happen. I saw her not notice me.

So she waddled on to the back, heaved a mighty sigh. I sucked in my breath, clutched my bag to my chest and hoped my sunglasses weren't inside. And then she sat. On me. I would say on my lap only she so far surpassed the size of my body that it was as if I were sitting in her ass rather than her sitting on me.

She must have felt me. Or seen my little legs kicking out in between hers. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there!" She leaned off me and scooched to the right, just barely making it into the empty seats. Her thigh still touched my thigh the whole way to campus. And this is how I got ill. I'm sure of it.

When the bus stopped, I had to use the left arm rest of the seat AND the strap to hoist myself up from my smashed position. I touched the germy places where sty guy had been. Did I wash my hands when I got to work? No! I ate my chicken sandwich and infected myself with death.

And now I am being punished. As God as my witness, I will never sit on the bus again. I will wear an oven mitt and stand near the front, swaying in the surf as I dangle from the too-short strap.