Reposted: The Perhaps-Drunken Mouth-Farter

http://gregoryholman.blogspot.com/2007/01/always-look-on-bright-side-of-life.html

http://gregoryholman.blogspot.com/2008/01/perhaps-drunken-mouth-farter.html

Thursday, January 17, 2008
The Perhaps-Drunken Mouth-Farter

Here is an interesting story from last week that I would have told in much better detail had I written it last week just after it happened to me.

I had worked 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. Traffic clogged Chestnut Expressway on the way home, and it was cold, and I was more than ready to be home, but back at the loft it would have been a refrigerator filled with quirky condiments but little in the way of actual foodstuffs. I pulled off the main road at one of the supermarkets near my Center City neighborhood thinking that I would pick up some vegetables and (if I could find it) some turkey sausage and then use it all, and some canned tomatoes and herbs, to make a pasta sauce.

I wandered through the store. Yay, look at all the fresh produce. Rats, no turkey sausage in the sausage case. I wandered further down the shelves of the meat department and was excited to find fresh sweet Italian turkey sausage. On a food-shopping roll, I thought to myself that I wanted a dinner roll. I meandered my way to the bakery, which sold ciabatta bread and some other small things at 50 cents apiece. As I was using a little individual slip of bakery paper to hoist out a little ciabatta roll into a little individualized paper bakery sack, I saw a pair of dudes out of the corner of my eye. They stood near the tortillas-and-corn-chips shelf. Until I left the store, they were omnipresent, popping up like a recurring gag.

They looked like the sons of those two guys out of Clerks, if those guys had gone out and reproduced with Beavis and Butt-Head's disreputable sisters. One was tall, scrawny, with a very oversized jacket and a pony tail. His face had a permanent leer. He looked 23 years old. The other might have been 12 years older but looked 12 years older than that. He was words-slurry. Both were slouchers and both wandered around without a cart, buying things seemingly at random. Every time another customer in the store crossed paths with the older, red-faced guy, he looked the other way and made a big, lip-flappy fart noise with his mouth. Each time, the younger Beavis-like character snickered.

I saw beautiful women wearing heels and serious business attire cross Red-Face's path, and he mouth-farted, and they made faces of genuine alarm, and the little one snickered. The same thing happened when old men wearing plaid shirts buying a dozen eggs went near them. Asinine morons, I thought to myself. Clearly someone's day job is not demanding every ounce of his attention.

I frequently use the self-checkout. Often I only have five or 10 things in my cart. But I had about 20 things including fresh vegetables. I had to use a regular checkout line. I had a long wait in front of me. Only a couple cashiers were staffed at the front of the store but many more customers were there to buy. (Supermarkets I regularly shop in southern Springfield always seem to have more cashiers on duty than markets I regularly shop in central Springfield. Shocker, that.)

Well, who gets in line behind me but Beavis and Red-Face. Oh man, I thought. Every so often, the older one would mouth-fart as someone walked past. Right behind me he would do this. The two of them stared at me. Right before it was my turn to scan out my purchases, Red-Face crept up right behind my ear and mouth-farted, inches from my skin. Just as I was about to tell him what he could go do with himself and make an invitation as to where he could do it (far, far away from me, perhaps in a men's room in Arkansas), it was my turn to pay and leave the store.

You know, urban living is quite nice most of the time, as far as I am concerned. I like lots of people around. I like diversity. I think in my lifetime, density and social mixing will be key priorities for community planning. But there are certainly moments when I completely understand why people like the suburbs or the country. I used to live there. Maybe one day I will again. An odd thought, but sometimes it's all about taking the stress out of your life.

Posted by Gregory Holman at 11:07

Topics: downtown Springfield, gas, take one can tomato puree and add to sauteed turkey sausage garlic and red pepper plus herbs

16 reader reactions:

Dan said...

Did you just describe life in Springfield with the word "urban?"
11:17 AM CST
Gregory Holman said...

Ah, what a special and witty comment. How is Brooklyn this morning?
11:28 AM CST
matthewclemmon said...

"They looked like the sons of those two guys out of Clerks, if those guys had gone out and reproduced with Beavis and Butt-Head's disreputable sisters."

Every time I think I'm good, you prove you're still the Master. All hail, Lord Vader.
12:26 PM CST
Amos said...

You would give up having that story just to have avoided experiencing it? Be thankful, for the goddess of inspiration hath smiled on thee. The Mouth-Farter is to awesome not to see print somewhere. Although it would have been cooler if you had swatted him with a tuber and proclaimed, "Shove off, knave!."
3:11 PM CST
Gregory Holman said...

The belle-plume writerly types love the mouth-farter. Here is a comment from a friend in children's lit/national-mag journalism who just read M-farter:

"Love it!!!And not to turn every freakin’ thing into a gender question but . . . can you imagine two women ever in a million years doing something like that? Mouth farting. It’s your tribe, dude, sorry to say."

I'm sorry to say I agree with her.
2:35 PM CST
Tammy said...

You must have been shopping at the Dillon's on the corner of National and St. Louis. It's the DMV of grocery stores.
10:26 AM CST
Anne said...

You responded to me so I'll return the favor. I'm with Tammy - had to be the Ghetto Dillon's - I used to shop there when I lived in Tammy's 'hood. Ask my kiddo to give you an example of a M-F!

Great to see you last night - fabulous party. Keep writing and I'll keep reading.
10:31 PM CST
Complaint Department Manager said...

I hate punks like that. Red rover, red rover send a brain cell right over. The mother must have locked them out of the house before going to work at the strip club. I wonder what Darwin would say to this?
8:32 PM CST
Michelle said...

1. The ghetto Dillons was the first place that came to mind.

2. At least he wasn't an ass-farter? It would've been much trickier on his part and it definitely would've stunk.

3. Can't really complain until a drunk man urinates on your open-toed sandals. Yes, it happened to me in, of all places, the Ozarks.
11:06 AM CST
Amos said...

Hey, one of our other reporters got splattered with blood from the dead guy in the cell tower last night. Is that better or worse than urine?
3:10 PM CST
Gregory Holman said...

Sad story all round.
3:27 PM CST
Michelle said...

OMG. Did he fall or jump? We sent an intern out there, but then she had to leave for the job that actually pays her.
12:20 AM CST
Amos said...

Not sure yet if it was intentional or not. She got hit with a few droplets when he fell the second time (which I saw from my car as I was pulling up). Weird, weird deal.
2:23 PM CST
Amos said...

Back on topic -- every time I'm in Dillon's now I hope to see the mouth-farter. I have a little speech prepared and everything.
2:28 PM CST
Gregory Holman said...

My little speech was nearly prepared the other day. I'm not sure I can render it in English. French words are coming to mind, but then again everyone can Gtranslate nowadays and I hate to give offense.
2:47 PM CST
Jason said...

""They looked like the sons of those two guys out of Clerks, if those guys had gone out and reproduced with Beavis and Butt-Head's disreputable sisters."

That's pure gold.
1:45 PM CST