There was some Chinese street-fest in progress, so apparently every Chinese person in Oakland had arrived to celebrate good times. So the usual disturbingly high amount of pedestrian traffic-law violation had intensified by approximately three-fold. The cops in charge of preventing people from getting run over had chickened out and shyly retreated to an abandoned corner of an intersection to socialize and oversee the chaos. It was a colorful scene. There was an immense number of stands, selling everything between jade Buddhas to diverse selections of critter body parts (cooked in a variety of methods and sauces), throngs of happy Chinese people, who, needless to say, contributed much of the exciting, yellow flurry that met one's eyes, and of course one of those red street dragons that dance around in a discomfortingly drunken manner. Luckily, I made it to 9th street uninjured. I showed up about 15 minutes late, and the proctor impatiently slipped me the test with an irritated look.
The room where we were taking the test was adjacent to a drive-through for vans and such, so there was the occasional sound of a vehicle's engine humming by. It was half-way through one of the critical reading sections and my mind had floated into a cushiony state of dreaminess, about a fourth concentrated on the test and the remaining 3 quarters focused assiduously on the flash video I had seen the night before, "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard!". Don't ask.
I then heard a deep rumbling sensation that felt awkwardly close to be a truck outside. It lasted for about 5 seconds and left me in utter confusion as to from what or where it had been emitted.
About half a minute later it happened again. This time it lasted for about 10 seconds, and it genuinely troubled me. I looked around curiously to see what the hell could have made it. Apparently nobody else in the room had noticed it, as they all remained hunched over their tests as if their lives depended on it.
I then discovered what it was. It was the girl sitting across the corner of the table from me. Her stomach. It sounded like a muffled lion. A muffled lion. Anyway, the rumbling noise pervaded the silence of the room several more times. Each time I miraculously refrained from laughing out hysterically. She had noticed by then that I was dying of suppressed laughter, and sighed sheepishly after each gastrointestinal barrage.
Anyway, it ceased for approximately 3 minutes, after which I had almost forgotten about the whole matter.
But suddenly, her gutbucket eminated another bawl louder and more untamed than any before. Air escaped from my pursed lips giving the impression of a terribly musical fart. I kind of turned to the side and desperately pinched my nose to keep from laughing straight out loud. My eyes were tensely contorted from agonizingly censored laughing fits. She glanced at me uncomfortably and sipped some water, hoping to relinquish the hungry monster that called forth from the depths of her insides. I began to gasp. The situation was one that you might define as grievously hilarious.
I left that day with my own insides irreparably damaged from direly intense pressure of the laughter. I have to wait till winter to see if it hurts when it rains.
Profiles
planetrandom
k*kari
Snowman
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home