My Visit To The Theater

A group of forty-something-year-old, balding ladies scrambled over the furniture. Thankfully I was still wearing sun glasses that managed to dim the glare from their pale naked flesh. They all held ticket stubs in their pudgy fingers, while they noisily arranged themselves in their seats.

Finally when they were seated, rather clumsily might I add, the show began.

A middle aged ugly American fashion editor with his greasy hair in a pony tail arrived late, up-rooting everyone seated in his row. He had the audacity to leave his mobile on during the performance.

After about three disruptive phone calls, the lady next to me turned and sneezed on my face. As I wiped her spittle from my cheek with a tissue I noticed that her lips were so full of collagen that she could barely close her mouth.

I flinched as the opera singer bowed and nearly fell off the stage, being so over-weight that her short legs could barely hold her. A member of the orchestra managed to yank her back, just in time.

When I got back out into the street the fresh air hit me like a slap in the face.
I could finally breathe again.

From the personal memoirs of Probable Sushi