Transient underground

What was that? Oh? You’re pregnant? Look. No, okay, look, I’ve had awful, terrible day, just completely fucking fucked. Truly. However tired you are, it doesn’t come close. Why’ve you got that badge anyway? Look at you. Barely a bumb. All that extra weight’s a bummer huh? Wait till you get to eight months lady, then you’ll be physically pulling people out of seats instead of just sniffing loudly and pointedly. You’re ‘too polite’ to ask any one to move but you’ll make them uncomfortable and guilty at the drop of a hat? Jesus. Can’t say shit to a pregnant lady, there’s no way to win. Jay-sus. Listen, listen, carrying a child doesn’t make you Mary Magdalene, it doesn’t make you incapable of standing and, sorry darling, it doesn’t make you any less of a bitch. Yeah, I know, I know, I’m the prick right? Yeah I’m the prick. Jesus, what a fucking day.

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Filed under 5 Minute Sketches, Creative writing

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