They Call It Way Too Rowdy

“that guy behind us is following you,” she said. “he was watching you leave the train car and followed you up.”

i hadn’t noticed him, or at least not noticed him following me. when we stopped outside a grocery store, he stopped half a block back and loitered. the woman linked her arm with mine and walked me several blocks out of her way to my front door and made sure i got inside safely.

another time, nocigar and i were walking home and at a stoplight a stranger grabbed my arm when i wouldn’t respond to him and tried to physically drag me over to him. she—who is, by the way, not a very physically imposing girl—ripped his hand off my arm and snarled, “don’t fucking touch her.”

“Those guys behind us were talking about following you. We can walk with you.” 

Literally every time I get chicken nuggets from McDo for lunch it is inevitable someone will pop their head in my office door and proclaim “Oh my god, I could never eat those. Do you know what they’re made of?”

Like, I’m sorry. Are you under the impression that I ordered nuggs for their nutritional value?

I assume they are made of some form of soy/chicken mixture but honest to god you could inform me they were comprised entirely of beaks and fucking wood shavings and I’d still be unhinging my jaw and vacuuming them into my gaping craw like I’m Kirby and McNoogins are my new challenger.