Sketchy or Sketcher: THAT is The Question
Who: Me. Clearly.
What: Waiting for my Train.
When: No idea. After work. Heavy Commuting time?
Where: South Station. Horribly ucomfortable metal table and chair.
What: The following encounter.
Me, reading (A History of The World in 6 Glasses) minding my own buisness.
Hipster Boy With *Suspenders: May I?
Me: Meh? Wha? Oooh. Go ahead.
He sits. I read (or try covertly look at him while staring occassionally at the same word).
My Mind: STRANGER ALERT. CUTE BOY ALERT. STRANGER ALERT. Fuck NO, CUTE BOY ALERT!
He begins to leaf threw his hand stapled booklet of sorts. he begins to what appears to me sketching.
My Mind: Oh MY GOD. Is he....DRAWING me?! No one's ever DRAWN me before. Why would he draw me? I'm not even cute today! He's creepy! He probably wants to steal my sole. Or FUCK me. I'm flattered....no, I'm completely creeped out.
Shut up, shut up. He's cute! And he CHOSE to sit next to you. Say...something. ANything!
Me: Erm...what are you doing?
Him:Drawing you beautiful.*Hallucination*
Me: Erm, what are you doing?
Him: Drawing.
Me: Are you an artist?
Him: Sordof. (he might've said yes). You can take a look (nudges his other booklet).
My Mind: I KNEW IT! I knew it! He wants something. You look preppy. Which means money!
Him: ..I would have more except my backpack got stolen
My Mind: Shit. SHIT!!! He wants to guilt you into biuying this beautiful drawing of you. Or his entire booklet. And if he doesn't get his way he'll force it out of you! With a knife! Or he'll probably rape me on the train or something. Help, help....
Me: Um... did you report it missing?
Him: Yep.
Me: Well whatcha gonna do...
He continues studiously drawing....
My Mind: Just waittil he finishes your beautiful drawing. Then you have to figure out what to do.
He gets up and walks behind your table to the next one with a large Blackman dressed with lots of feathers and fringe, very Native American like.
New Man: You drawing me?
Hipster: With your permission.
New man: Heh. You don't have to move to do it.
Hipster: I know, I just wanted a better angle than the last.
One ego down for the count.
What: Waiting for my Train.
When: No idea. After work. Heavy Commuting time?
Where: South Station. Horribly ucomfortable metal table and chair.
What: The following encounter.
Me, reading (A History of The World in 6 Glasses) minding my own buisness.
Hipster Boy With *Suspenders: May I?
Me: Meh? Wha? Oooh. Go ahead.
He sits. I read (or try covertly look at him while staring occassionally at the same word).
My Mind: STRANGER ALERT. CUTE BOY ALERT. STRANGER ALERT. Fuck NO, CUTE BOY ALERT!
He begins to leaf threw his hand stapled booklet of sorts. he begins to what appears to me sketching.
My Mind: Oh MY GOD. Is he....DRAWING me?! No one's ever DRAWN me before. Why would he draw me? I'm not even cute today! He's creepy! He probably wants to steal my sole. Or FUCK me. I'm flattered....no, I'm completely creeped out.
Shut up, shut up. He's cute! And he CHOSE to sit next to you. Say...something. ANything!
Me: Erm...what are you doing?
Him:Drawing you beautiful.*Hallucination*
Me: Erm, what are you doing?
Him: Drawing.
Me: Are you an artist?
Him: Sordof. (he might've said yes). You can take a look (nudges his other booklet).
My Mind: I KNEW IT! I knew it! He wants something. You look preppy. Which means money!
Him: ..I would have more except my backpack got stolen
My Mind: Shit. SHIT!!! He wants to guilt you into biuying this beautiful drawing of you. Or his entire booklet. And if he doesn't get his way he'll force it out of you! With a knife! Or he'll probably rape me on the train or something. Help, help....
Me: Um... did you report it missing?
Him: Yep.
Me: Well whatcha gonna do...
He continues studiously drawing....
My Mind: Just waittil he finishes your beautiful drawing. Then you have to figure out what to do.
He gets up and walks behind your table to the next one with a large Blackman dressed with lots of feathers and fringe, very Native American like.
New Man: You drawing me?
Hipster: With your permission.
New man: Heh. You don't have to move to do it.
Hipster: I know, I just wanted a better angle than the last.
One ego down for the count.