pinching toddler’s heads in closing subway doors
many of you may be aspiring parents. like us, many of you may also already be a parent and not know it. regardless of your level of sexual indiscretion, surely you would have been a more responsible mother/father than one that i saw on the subway today in paris.
i’m minding my own business on the train, subtly aiming my crotch at this large breasted women across from me (“is he pulsating at me?”… oh the endless possibilities of random innuendo on public transportation systems) when we pull up to a subway stop. i am sitting next to the doors when they open and a foot comes flying at my face. but this is no ordinary foot… it has a strange proportion about it. in my haze of distraction between being both concerned for my face getting kicked and maintaining eye contact with big-boobs i hear an infantile scream.
the foot belonged to a boy of about two, entering the subway car on the shoulders of his young mother.
the scream also belonged to him but was now being shared with everyone in the train car.
looking up, i notice that his stupid mother neglected the fact that when you put a two foot object over your head you cannot maintain the same assumed proportions of height to which you’re accustomed… particularly when you walk through doorways.
the mother’s brain worked like a mono-functional elementary computer, for when she switched to thinking vertically and ducked down to stop cramming her son’s head into the door frame, her horizontal awareness halted and she stopped moving forward.
perhaps she was new to the concept of public transport or the idea that, when things open, they tend to intermittently close as well (it’s this whole action-reaction theory… yin-yang type shit). so she stoops… her son’s head straightens back out from its cushy-crammed mashup… but she doesn’t move. so the doors close in on her.
now that she’s forced back into the horizontal world, she yelps and starts squeezing through the door ass first. can you guess what remained on the other side of the doors? ding ding ding. her son’s head.
i was too busy maintaining my suggestive crotch position to help, but i think a few kind fellas stepped in and pushed the doors open enough for his little beak to get into the car. crying, he clung to his mother and was cooed for a few moments until the stench started. he had shit his pants.
the moral of this story? use condoms.
or at least punch her in the stomach after you’re done.
love,
kate and cannon
