September 19, 2011
"Nah. I'm good." He waved 'em off with his hand. "So, as I was saying--"
I offered him a mint for a reason: his breath stinks. The air shooting out of his mouth towards my nostrils smells like a rotten cheesesteak left in the backseat of a car. It's so gnarly, it's unfair.
What did he eat for breakfast, bat droppings and pigeon spit? What did he have for lunch, dog puke ragu? This is unacceptable! I can't even focus on what he's saying because I'm too concerned that I'm going to pass out from the toxic fumes spewing from his lips.
What I don't get is why he would turn these mints down. You think he'd appreciate this free trip to mintyfresh land. I guess he likes smelling like a dumpster? Doesn't he know that his breath is funky? He should be welcoming these mints into his life like the good breath liberators they are; not shunning them.
I waited a few minutes til I couldn't take it anymore. Then I remembered that I had some gum in my purse.
"Here, have some gum." I popped a rectangle of gum out of the foil blister and shoved it in his hand. "You know what? Take two."
"Oh, sure. I guess. Thanks."
THANK THE LORD!