Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Yes, I was sexually harassed. By a wrinkled old man, no less.
He did it while I was walking back to office today. That sneaky old fella sneaked up to me from behind, stuck his finger into my belt loop and said softly, "You're not wearing a belt."
My entire world came crashing down. For twenty years I was trying to live a chaste life amidst the corruption that envelops society, and now, this happens to me. The only worse thing that can happen right now is that the old man has an uniform fetish.
In my moment of folly, I actually replied him.
"I woke up late... Forgot about the belt."
He simply said:
"... Soldier."
He smiled and walked off. Perhaps sneaked off might have been a better description. Perhaps he went off in search of another target. But I was in no state of mind to think about all these possibilities. I was devastated. My worst fears came true.
An old man sneaked up on me, put his finger into my belt loop and told me about my missing belt. And he has a fetish for soldiers.
Whatever little hopes I had left were shattered. Utterly.
What made it worse is the fact that I actually woke up thinking that it will be a great day. This was due to a dream I had while sleeping. I actually dreamt that I woke up inside a giant hash brown and had to eat my way out. I succeeded and woke up feeling really satisfied at myself. Heck, I even smelled flowers, only to realise that the scent came from my lavender soap. That insignificant fact did little to dampen my spirits, however.
But now, the appearance of that wrinkled old man ruined everything. I guess I'll have to end here, and bury my head in pillows, sobbing silently for the decay of mankind.
Goodbye, cruel world.
Footnote: For your information, the old man carries an ugly red leather briefcase. If you see any old man with an ugly red leather briefcase, take care. You may wish to start by wearing a belt and steering away from wearing green.
Footnote No. 2: I was just kidding about the crying part. I am actually going to buy hash browns. That entire phrase about crying is just an avant-garde metaphor for buying hash browns.
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