adventures in poopooland: he cringed

He cringed as I picked up the pastry with my hands. He was the king, after all.

His body language spoke volumes. He was a member of an exclusive 'athletic club' where he and other snooty people like him gathered. From what I could see, he wasn’t the only boss who had invited his assistant to join him for lunch that day. There we were, all wearing ugly black jackets provided to us to meet the dress code. And there he and his peers were, all kind of posing for us peons. Bizarre.

I commuted to work by train back then. My boss had to pick up his new car from a dealer in the town I lived in and decided to join me on the train home that day. As we walked toward Union Station, I noticed he held his head up and slightly to one side, revealing the profile he wanted others to notice. I couldn’t help giggling now and then but I’m sure he was clueless as to why. I imagined him a king marching to his untimely demise, holding his nose up the air as if to say, “I am the king and I’m better than you.” And I was the peon, giggling along my odd journey home thinking of a line from Blazing Saddles - “duck!”

[🌱 𝚓𝚘𝚎. 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚜.]