Man, today was hot. Biking home from work was all manner of sticky and sweaty. And I don’t know what it was, but I’m thinking there must’ve been, like, an 18-wheeler FULL of durian that tipped over somewhere. If you’ve ever smelled it, you know what I mean. Whoo boy!

Even with the stench, a lot of people were out walking. There was a pretty good breeze going, so I could understand that. (Certainly didn’t help that the same wind was blowing the stomach-turning smell of durian around.) People sure weren’t moving very quickly, though. Just kind of lumbering up and down the streets.

The roads were surprisingly empty. I was expecting more people to commute home via their air-conditioned cars, to tell the truth. I still managed to hit almost every single light on my way home. I guess people were jealous that I had wheels or something, because they kept getting too close when I was stopped. Unfriendly lot down here in the South Bay. No, “Hi! Nice day. Pretty warm. Huh, what’s that rotting flesh smell?” Just a lot of “Urghhhhhhh blerghhhhhhhhh.” And “Glrghhhhh brawn.” Well, I am looking pretty ripped. Been almost three months since I started the bike commute, after all.

Got home, took a shower, nuked a burrito, and waited for the guys to come over for D&D. Oh, there’s the doorbell now.

Wait, what?!


(This horribly written bit of fiction is brought to you by Blog Like It’s the End of the World.)

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