About a week ago I rode the Toronto Abattoir and Germ Factory Transit system. The government calls it the TTC.
What made this trip different was that it was 7:30 in the morning on a Tuesday, a time of day when I haven't been on the TTC in about 70 years.
The train, slowing winding its way to the abattoir, was full of cattle. The government calls this cattle the public.
I guess cattle work at this time of day.
A man next to me sneezed an uproarious sneeze. For all intents and purposes, he wasn't a man. He was a six foot dripping nose in a Boss suit. About 1.68 cm from my mouth. One nostril swallowed my body whole and then slowly dripped it out again.
I could feel the germs copulating on my face. Then arguing, then having make up sex, and very quickly there were 8 trillion microorgasms making my body their whorehouse.
Remember C. Difficile – the bacteria that causes gut-wrenching diarrhea?
Well, I had TTC Difficile.
But at least I got off before all those cattle went to slaughter.
