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Weekly Contest #83
Falling asleep wasn’t going to be easy. Not just because of the more-than-slightly overweight guy named Craig from Mississippi (Mrs M, Mrs I, Mrs S, S, I, Mrs S, S, I, Mrs, P, P, I) who is snoring against the now vibrating glass divider as a string of drool dripped slowly towards his side of the armrest. I didn’t even need to see him chug 15 of those cheap airline mini-whiskey bottles. I can almost smell him through my Built-in Barrier Mask. But it’s not just Craig’s fault that I can’t sleep, although I’ll let him shoulder 65%... nah… 45% o...
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