Not the Mow We Want, but the Mow We NEED

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Dear Chelso,

There was a lady with this bomb-ass beard bag. But even better, she brought her two cats on the train this past Monday. As you can kind of make out, she is just cuddling that kitten and cradling it in her arms. At some point though she apparently needs to do something – so she just plops the kitten down on top of the sleepy orange cat there – and they just curl up into each other and continue to nap on this loud and crowded train.

I’ve only been riding this train for about two months now, and I’ve seen and experienced so many strange things. Today, my coworker and I stared at this fully furnished wheelchair sitting in the isle for most of the trip home. It had a dirty pink cushion and a pint of opened Sprite all propped up on it. Who walked away from their wheelchair? Did they lose it? Did a miracle occur? Did they wander off the train and now there’s someone somewhere trying to make their way back to this chair? Was someone trying to donate an extra chair to this crowded train? Is it a bomb in disguise? All of these questions were only partially answered when a man from a different seating area only accessible by stairs, wearing all camouflage, just as dirty as the pink cushion, grabbed the wheelchair and rolled it off with him.

After the man left with his wheelchair, I overheard a guy loudly complain that he’s 30 and therefore working for a living and that he was disgruntled with people were¬†always mistaking him for a student.¬†No one can recognize how old he is. The guy he was talking to was like, “just wait until you’re my age!” 30-yr-old says “50?”

“Oh! You flatter me I’m 58 this year.”

30-yr-old: “Well I mean it, it’s not like you’re a girl that I’m trying to take on a date.”

I hope you don’t mind me forcing these stories on you, but I am just somehow always more surprised and impressed than the time before. Look forward to your next creations!

Mow

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