Luke Grown Up

So I just got out of class a little while ago, and I decided to go into town to work on a phase of Sara’s Surprise that I’ve been working on for a couple weeks now. I can’t say what this Surprise is because she reads this blog (hi Sara!) and I don’t want anyone blabbing. But let’s just say it takes awhile to get the whole Surprise together. Anyway, after I completed the phase, I waited for the bus, and once I boarded, the ride was absurd. I’m going to post part of the story from dynamoaf because it is absolutely ridiculous. If you want the rest, go to the link above and read the rest.

Most ridiculous, and I swear this happened, was the older-looking Middle Eastern woman breastfeeding across from me. The baby was at her belt, and a small portion of the woman’s midriff was showing. MEANING, SHE WAS BREASTFEEDING THE BABY FROM A WICKED SAGGY BREAST THAT HUNG TO HER WAIST. I wasn’t quite sure at first if this was what was happening, so I observed in my periphery. When the baby pulled itself off, I noticed that, yes, she had indeed been breastfeeding. AND HER NIPPLE WAS THE SIZE AND SHAPE OF A COFFEE CREAMER. Maybe not as wide (but it was pretty damn wide), but definitely as long. For those of you that think I’m a pervert for looking, you have to trust me when I say that there was nothing erotic or even attractive about this scene. It was sickening. But it was also hilarious.

I haven’t even reached the kicker of this situation, either. I saw the mother put a young girl next to her on the seat. I thought to myself, where did the baby go? Maybe she put it back in the carriage, which was right in front of her. I looked there - no baby. The breastfeeding “baby” had in fact been that little girl, who was at LEAST 3, because she was talking and HAD A FULL SET OF TEETH.

What the hell is going on in this town?! It doesn’t matter how long I stay here, I will never be comfortable with some aspects of the openness of it. If I ever get comfortable enough that I don’t notice events like that (or notice and don’t care), then do me a favor - ball up some hemp string and shove it down my throat so I suffocate. Having become a hippie at this point, I will have died an ironic death, and I will serve as a message (or a martyr, but that’s worst case scenario) for the dirty people of this town.

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