From "Fergyville" by Katina Ferguson

Frank put extra care into staying away from the woman’s face, which was bobbing at his crotch level. The woman looked to be in her late fifties, and wore heavy makeup and fine jewelry. Her blond, boy-cut-hair took a backseat to the high- gloss burgundy lipstick coating her thin wrinkly lips. Her purple wool jacket was long (still at her thigh level when she was seated) and matched the gigantic purple and gold handbag she held firmly against her lap. There was no doubt in Frank’s mind that this woman worked in a department store. He tried to turn his hips at an angle so that the wobbling wouldn’t bring his bag within inches of her face, but, getting a little fed up from all the effort it took, he imagined himself yanking the bag away from his privates the very next time the bus threw him toward her. He would yell “Surprise!” while pumping his crotch up and down like a Chip ‘n’ Dale dancer. The idea carved a light smirk across Frank’s face, but it was quickly erased when the bus experienced a sudden bang and bump. Potholes…