I was sitting on the school bus with the kid that picks his nose and eats it. It had been the last seat. Well, there was always a spot next to the ten year old who shaves, but he looks at you with a strange desire in his eyes. The kid next to me picked his nose, smiled dumbly, and offered me a portion of his harvest. I turned him down politely. Manners are important. That’s what my mom was always telling me. Actually she said that it was good manners to always accept a small portion of what anybody offered you. I loved my mother dearly, but I figured that in this instance, her advice was a crock of shit. There was no way I was going to accept any miniscule portion of that guys fucking mucus no matter what good manners called for. Sitting there on the bus, I thought of all those pompous assholes with their white gloves and their special salad forks looking at you with their nose in the air because you could never match up to their level of culture. They acted like they would know the socially acceptable thing to do in any situation. Well I bet they’d never been stuck on the bus with one of the legions of borderline retards who offered you some human secretion as an approximation of a tasty treat. Then in a flash I had it. Those pompous assholes were the booger eating kid all grown up. They turn their noses at you to remind you of the scorn you showed them in their youth. “This is a horn o’ plenty,” they suggest, giving you a good view, “but you’ll get none of it.” Well that’s just fine by me. I decided to stop listening to the rules of etiquette and my mom in the same moment. And just for good measure, I punched that disgusting little brat in the face, breaking his nose and giving him two black eyes.
The End