Mmmm, donuts

Last night on the Skytrain, I saw a real, live Homer Simpson. I couldn’t believe my eyes. He was bald, fat, wore wide blue pants that were floods, and he had the same voice and intelligence level. He was talking loudly on his cel phone. I know, Homer Simpson with a cell phone, how frightening. And it truly was. The conversation that followed was hard on the ears, yet extremely entertaining. That is how I determined his intelligence level.

“Guess what I found last night on the street!”

“DONUTS!”

“Yeah, a whole box, and I ate them all!”

“No, I offered her one, but she said no.”

“She said, ‘Go ahead, if you want to get sick!’ “

He mumbled a few other sentences, I couldn’t hear cuz of the train rumbling and squeaking.

He ends the call. Then his phone rings. He answers mid-ring. He starts yelling at the person to meet him at the Skytrain station. That conversation is cut short,  and he slaps his phone shut.

The phone rings again. My, this guy is popular in his world of fellow ignoramuses.

“Hello?”

“Oh YEAH! …  Yeah … Oh, hey! Guess what I did!”

“Yeah … Guess what I just did!”

“Heh, I pissed in the elevator.”

“I said, I PISSED IN THE ELEVATOR!”

” YEAH!”

“It was cool.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, man!”

“Bye”

A few seconds later, his phone rings, and this time, I can hear his ringtone more clearly, a male country singer. Don’t ask me who, I hate country. Oh my, a redneck Homer!

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m near the Broadway Station. YOU GET OFF THAT BUS RIGHT NOW!!”

He is transforming into Angry Dad. I consider myself lucky to witness this rare event of cartoon/human metamorphosis.

“YES! MEET ME THERE!”

“WHAT?”

“Okay fine, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets up from his seat and stands in front of the exit door right behind me, breathing heavily. He shuffles restlessly and begins pacing in circles.  I’m afraid he is going to pound the glass I’m leaning against because he knows I was listening to his conversation. This is Homer with a violent streak. Then he walks in front of me, down the aisle to the door furthest away. He stands really close to the glass as the train approaches the station. He looks at himself, making faces at his reflection, raising his eyebrows upside down, squinting and blinking heavily, scrunching his lips.

I have to get off too, and I go to the door in front of my seat. As we exit the train, he takes a sudden swing to the left, and practically bumps into me. I avoid him just in time. He glares at me, and I can hear him stop suddenly behind me. I’m afraid he’s gonna follow me for some strange reason. Maybe he thinks I have a donut stash in my backpack. I walk quickly across the platform and down the stairs. When I reach the bottom, I hear a man say, “The one time I go to use the escalator, it’s broken! Off all the times for it to be broken! Now I have to use the stairs!”  I look behind me, but thankfully it’s a man with his young boy, and he encourages the boy  to jump from the third stair up from the ground. Whew. I look up to the top of the stairs. Homer has disappeared.

I think about his conversation as I ride the B-Line bus home. Redneck clods should not be allowed to own cell phones. They should run ignoramus checks before the credit check. People’s ears are on the line.

I am still trying to poke out my mind’s eye.