Public Ashtray

The beautiful, young woman stands over me, smoking her cigarette, as she waits to cross the road. Then – suddenly – she catches my eye. She smirks; she ponders my helplessness; and then she looks down at me with a mischievous grin on her pretty face. The next thing I know she is flicking her used cigarette butt down onto my face. It lands on my eye.

She laughs at me; pulls a funny face as if to pretend that she had dropped her used cigarette on me by accident (I know it wasn't an accident); and triumphantly walks off. I then have the added indignity of observing her dirty sneaker sole and black sock walking over me as she leaves me where I belong – down in the gutter with her superior female DNA resting on my eye in the form of her discarded, saliva-ridden cigarette butt.

Truly I am not worthy to be her public ashtray! And she knows it!

















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