Channeling Something to Ease the Tedium
In this supposed hallowed haven, I submerged myself in absurdities and pure imagination so that the time would pass more rapidly. Killing time is no easy feat, mind you, but if you put enough thought into it, it can truly work wonders.
In short, I must say, that absurdities and pure imagination were truly my strong suits. Naturally, this will certainly suffice for sixty minutes.
I catch a glimpse at the tattered and vomit-colored seat next to me to spot a nasty old toad of a woman sniveling and chortling. What a peculiar woman. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to shoot her a withering stare. How bizarre of her!
She was an elderly woman sans any kind of decent dental work, sporting colossal bifocals that made her beady, dark eyes the size of bowling balls.
Paradoxically, the loon was clad in none other than a Vera Wang pantsuit.
"Hmm...how out of the ordinary! What an odd attire for such a squishy old moppet," I thought to myself.
I was crude, rude, and vindictive. But that certainly didn't stop me. After all, the woman was staring daggers at me that very moment.
Her cheeks were ruddy. It was as if she had just spent the past week skiing in Aspen. From the looks of it, she certainly has the cash. The gobs and gobs of eye shadow, blush, and eyeliner that were smeared all over her doughy face were certainly blatant implications that she may very well be a gold-digger.
Then I spotted the dark purple lipstick that was splotched negligently across her lips. "Or she could be a crack whore," I thought to myself.
"TEN CENTS A DANCE!" I thought of a fitting slogan in my head.
Then I cringed. Glancing up at the filthy, ancient clock hanging from a nail on the wall, I realized it was finally, at long last, time to go.
In short, I must say, that absurdities and pure imagination were truly my strong suits. Naturally, this will certainly suffice for sixty minutes.
I catch a glimpse at the tattered and vomit-colored seat next to me to spot a nasty old toad of a woman sniveling and chortling. What a peculiar woman. I rolled my eyes and proceeded to shoot her a withering stare. How bizarre of her!
She was an elderly woman sans any kind of decent dental work, sporting colossal bifocals that made her beady, dark eyes the size of bowling balls.
Paradoxically, the loon was clad in none other than a Vera Wang pantsuit.
"Hmm...how out of the ordinary! What an odd attire for such a squishy old moppet," I thought to myself.
I was crude, rude, and vindictive. But that certainly didn't stop me. After all, the woman was staring daggers at me that very moment.
Her cheeks were ruddy. It was as if she had just spent the past week skiing in Aspen. From the looks of it, she certainly has the cash. The gobs and gobs of eye shadow, blush, and eyeliner that were smeared all over her doughy face were certainly blatant implications that she may very well be a gold-digger.
Then I spotted the dark purple lipstick that was splotched negligently across her lips. "Or she could be a crack whore," I thought to myself.
"TEN CENTS A DANCE!" I thought of a fitting slogan in my head.
Then I cringed. Glancing up at the filthy, ancient clock hanging from a nail on the wall, I realized it was finally, at long last, time to go.
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