About 8 or 9 years ago, I had my taxes done at H & R Block. I still have them done there, because I have never understood all that money stuff.
Anyway, that particular year, the person doing my taxes was a grotesquely overweight woman who clearly had some severe health issues.
As I sat there having my taxes done, she kept hacking up her lungs, while shoving these icky sweet candies in her face. She offered me some, I declined. They were not cough drops - which she should have been taking - they were candies.
After the taxes were done, I went into the grocery store next door, and started washing my hands in the bathroom. There was a black guy combing his hair at the sink next to me. I felt like that fat disgusting unhealthy woman was all over me. I rolled up my sleeves, and started washing my forearms, and then my biceps. I then started washing my face as well.
Yes, I was a little panicked – and too obsessed to notice that the black guy was just staring at me with a very puzzled look on his face – I had soap all over my arms and face – I froze and stared back at him.
He said, “Are you alright?”
I knew he didn’t understand what was going on, so I told him as best as I could, “Oh yeah, I’m fine, you see, I just got done doing my taxes, and I feel really dirty”.
He put an even more puzzled look on his face and walked out of the bathroom.
I realized what the whole scenario must have looked like from his point of view and started laughing.
Yes, this is how all of us psychotic serial killers who live in our mothers basements (whom we have issues with) act in public when we are not busy being closet queers or having issues with women.
2 hours ago