Sticky Buns

Illustration by Bob AulI'm sitting there at the intersection of Commonwealth and Pomona in Fullerton, waiting to make a left turn. You're using the crosswalk in front of me, dressed in black. Me male. You female. You're quite attractive, and you know it. Being a normal male, I sort of absent-mindedly track your progress across the street. Then I see it: a fairly large Post-It note stuck right to your rear. After a split-second, the initial surprise passes and a chuckle I hardly ever make issues forth. You're heading for the Post Office I just came from. Everyone should see it there. Since I'm a few cars back, I have to wait another light cycle before I can make that left. Before I do, you cross back again. It's still there! Funny, funny. Had that note been stuck to your elbow, your back, your shoe—anywhere—I'm sure somebody would have mentioned it to you. But since it was stuck right on your very nice butt, nobody would find it in them to tell you, except for maybe a girlfriend back at your office. Being just an average guy, I'd guess that you would probably not be the sort of person who'd have much to do with me under normal everyday circumstances, and that's not a problem with me, so I'm not writing this maliciously—more to console myself: no matter how good-looking or graceful, we are all made to look foolish sometimes.

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