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Yogurt and Viruses before/after I bought a cup of yogurt today that I really didn�t want because I didn�t want to catch a cough. Let me explain. The cough, cold, and flu season is on its way. Everybody knows this. Yet there are still those miserable bastards who go out into the public with their ick not in check, not under wraps, and cough like a pit-bull choking on puppy bones wherever they go without the slightest thought of common decency like covering their goddam mouths. The grocery store was a madhouse, people fuckin� everywhere. Not that they were fucking, everywhere, just that there was a lot of people. Hmmm. That�s a new spin-the orgy/grocery store, people gasping amongst the produce, shaking it in the dairy section. Unwed mothers and soccer moms undulating in the laser light of the check-out aisles�.but I digress. They were giving away flu shot for the elderly. The old folks crept around slowly. A sad shuffle of lives that have perhaps gone on too long, but gone on so long that they know nothing else but to keep going, and really, like the rest of us, are just killing time until we die. It saddened me, in a sense. The wither, the sense decay. Like dried leaves at the end of autumn, waiting for winter�s cold embrace. The bulk of life is how you live it, and approach it with verve. You will know me by my presence, be it now, ten years from now, or sixty years from now, and you will not mistake me for a wisp of alien nothing, nor will I shuffle sadly after canned baking products. And I digress again. Where was I? Right, the gagger. So, seeing all the old folks, pondering the cycle of life, I stopped to get some yogurt. I like yogurt. I get mainly strawberry yogurt. I like strawberries. I switch it up. Try new things, keep life interesting. So I branched out into several flavors. Peach. Custard style. And the island delight of the zesty tropical cool of pina� colota�. But they don�t have pina colota. In fact, it�s nowhere to be found. I grabbed a vanilla flavored yogurt, thinking it�s indeed the greatly desired pina colata. Motherfucker. And then the carrier came up behind me, and hacked like Satan choking on an angel bone. Ha. I originally had a typo. It said, �Like Satan choking on an angel boner.� How�s that for imagery? Maybe if I manage to offend both camps, they will have to find a new place for me. Not that I believe that, anyway. And, hearing the heavy congestion not more than a foot away from me, I thought, �You can either blow seventy five cents on yogurt you don�t want, and have a day of unhappy, or you can keep looking and have a nasty hack for the next three months.� It was a no-brainer. I tossed it in the cart. Bolted. And the reason I write this neurotic, brain-storm-tossed bullshit, is that I hope, I HOPE, that I can start a movement of people covering their goddam mouths when they cough, and show a little common decency with their viruses. Cocksuckers. Stick me with fuckin� vanilla goddam yogurt. Eat my ass. Cover your goddam mouth, rudeness. This is to say nothing about the packs of wild children running screaming through the store. One with a leaf of lettuce on his head. At the time, at that age, when I got rowdy, I never understood why the �rents would settle me down. Now, I know. But I never ran around shrieking with lettuce on my head. Not even at my most high and wired moments, did that ever occur.
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