The target - a slightly overweight girl wearinq all too much denim.
The hunter - a tall, thin man. White t, black mambo shorts, dark glasses. He opens with an inoccent request for the time.
Then comes the gold - 'do i have
any shavinq rash?'
'no' she replies
he is sinking fast but still chasing this doomed anqle.
'.....(pause)......any at all?'
'no'
'are you sure' (im cringing inside at this point thinking psycho psycho psycho)
'yes' - the train lurches into the next stop. She hurriedly heads for the door at an almost bolt, then trots down past the windows (and past the view of psycho boy) to the next carriaqe. The guy looked totally normal afterwards as though he did this kind of thing all the time, if he does.... it is a sad world indeed.
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"Asking a bomb squad if an old bomb is still "real" is not the best thing to do if you want to save it." - denim
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