As I write this from the 38 PVTA bus there is this person sitting three rows up with what looks to be half-boiled oats strewn all through his beard. For the fifth time in the past 14 minutes he has unplugged his CD player, looked back, secured his eyes into mine, and in a methodical slow motion moved his hand upward and scratched his nose, I’m starting to think he might want me to copy him?
Oatmeal beards are one of those things I don't very handle well, I have begun to imagine myself with an oatmeal beard too, but the rest of my face is blurred when I try to picture it, though strangely I now regonezie myself more that way. When the oatmeal beard turned back to face frontward and four of the oats fell out, he then removed a match box from the matted knots of his beard and gently marionetted three of them into it, but the fourth he rose to his nose and then very loudly sniffed it, then finally flicked it the box. I can't help but wonder why he singled out that oat and I've now begun to feel claustrophobic, and have noticed the smell of phosphorus. I'll try to update you with more observations of the oatmeal beard if I can.
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