Deepest reaches of his personhood

A rotund dude got on the bus wearing a track suit. It was pretty crowded, and I was sitting near the back. He put some coins in the fare box and proceeded to walk towards an open seat. The bus driver called him back because he was a bit short. He walked back and while reaching for some change, plunged his right hand a bit too forcefully into his right pocket of his track suit pants. Yep. The force of his hand overwhelmed the lateral force of the elastic waistband on his hips, i.e., his track pants ended up around his ankles. No underwear… At the very moment his track pants dropped past his knees, I saw in slow motion a collective movement of all the seated patrons in the rows of seats ahead of me arching backwards as if struck by an invisible hand. They resembled a synchronized wave, of the type you customarily see spreading across the stadia of crowded sports arenas. Since this poor unfortunate fellow was a bit advanced in years, all of the curly hairs peppering his bare bottom had turned a stately gray. As he instinctively knelt down to pull up his pants, everyone was now in a position to offer sworn testimony that the stately gray had spread to the deepest reaches of his personhood. Good times, that ride…

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