So I was standing in line for, like hours.
And it was freakin’ cold.
“Dude,” I asked the guy in front of me, “What are we even waiting for?”
“Noan doh,” he replied.
I did not comprehend what that might mean, but it occurred to me that that was actually a good thing, ’cause it helped to pass the time.
After another few hours, I realized that the dude in front of me was actually some sort of municipal trash bag, and that I wasn’t in a line at all. I was just sort of tottering weakly on my tired legs amongst a variety of urban detritus.
I was slightly perturbed. I mean, it explained why I couldn’t understand what the dude, er, bag had said, but didn’t explain why it was able to speak in the first place.
I decided I was probably slightly freaked out, but only slightly, because, after all, if I was going to be freaked out, I should much more be freaked out that I had been standing in a pile of garbage for hours thinking that I was waiting in line for something.
I wonder if it was something good, like concert tickets.
Well, anyway, guess I should be moving on. It really is cold out here.
Hey! I think that’s my bus.
Oh wait, it’s just some abandoned mattress and a broken chair.
I am a real mess.
At least I know what I am.
I suppose that’s a start.
Damn. This is the slowest moving line I’ve ever had to wait in. And it’s freaking cold…
“Dude, what are we even waiting for?”