*********** GAS YAWA, YAWA GAS ***********
The bus shambled along the heavy traffic on a bright sunny
day. The passengers were all lost in the worlds in their hands- some ipaded
their faces while others had their eyes salivating over black berries…… except
for him.
He sat at the back of the bus, head thrown back, a small
pouched belly protruding, nostrils flaring, spittle at boiling point bubbling
at the corners of his mouth, throat rending a growling ballad- he was deep in
sleep.
A trailer zoomed past the bus, dragging a tsunami of black
cloud in its wake, causing the bus to be eclipsed for a few seconds. At the
T-junction ahead, a street side bakery is causing stomach quakes with the smell
of baking bread. The snout of the huge generator spouted blue carbon into the
air, which filtered into the bus.
Their only reactions to the pollution were waves of
handkerchiefs to ward off gaseous cancers in foetal formations- still they fed
from their screens.
Finally, the bus squeezed out of the traffic build up and
picked up speed.
Just then , the sleeping man roused half-eyed from his
sweltering slumber, grunted, lifted a buttock, released it and went back to
sleep.
Forty five seconds later, the handkerchiefs could not wave
it away, androids and blackberries lost hypnotic control of their hosts and
curses rained on an innocent anus.
Question: Why do we indulge the big criminals and curse the
little ones?
Photo from google.com
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