Muneeb Ahmed

Muneeb Ahmed

enjoying nature at Welfare Club

This morning, as happens every so often on the train, I was seated next to someone who was just sitting there, minding his/her own business, dozing and such, no talking, no cell phone, no too-loud earphones, no paper or book inadvertently hitting me, enough room for me to sit comfortably,: just a quiet dream of a fellow commuter. Not!

I have covered this before, in a tangential manner, when I discussed people trying to clothe their unwashed bodies with perfume. Hell, even a fresh-smelling, squeaky-clean individual can smell like a horror when cloaked in too much scent.
But this day’s rant is on bad breath. I’m not even talking onion breath or garlic breath, or smoker’s breath, or even worse, hideous dragon breath one can have just emerging from sleep. I am talking unadulterated, unmitigated, that-is-a-frigging-birth-control-method/self-defense technique/pesticide bad breath. I’m talking this person, just breathing normally, was wafting air that smelled like unwiped ass. I’m talking: Waiter, could you please bring my fellow commuter here a large Altoids omelet with a baking soda latte?

People, please. Brush your frigging teeth. If you have a medical condition causing Fart Mouth,use Smart Mouth. Either that, or buy a car and travel solo (condolences to your steering wheel and window glass). Get some TheraBreath for your terror breath.

When I start wondering if the seat I am in could classify as a Superfund site, you need to find a dentist, okay? All I know is that I am exceedingly grateful I did not have to have a conversation with this individual. Is it really possible that this person has no clue that his/her exhalations resemble exhumations?
On the other hand, maybe this is a carefully executed plan: Perhaps it goes something like this: If my breath reeks, I can have the seat to myself without having to be rude by putting my backpack or briefcase beside me. Once my breath, and the word about my breath, gets out, no one will sit near me. Then I can scurry off to work when I get to the city and take care of my oral hygiene. Fair enough. But listen, hon, this blind chick cannot spot the fact that you are the one sitting beside the empty seat I wish to occupy, and it would be horribly obvious, to at least a few who were paying attention, and presumably humiliating for you, if I stopped by a seat and started sniffing like a bloodhound, and then moved quickly on past you with a look of barely concealed nausea. So, for the benefit of those of us who cannot see to avoid the smell, perhaps you can put an app on your phone, or get one of those cool sound effects keychains, and as I, or another of my ilk, considers the space beside you, you can press a button that alerts us with the sound of really serious gastrointestinal disturbance, or hocked loogies. Just a thought. Can you think and stink at the same time?

Uploaded: Jun 22, 2016

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Tags: nature, club, welfare, pakistan, islamabad, hot, boys, hotboys

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published 1 year ago
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