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Originally Posted: 2005-02-01 11:07pm

Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy

A True Tale Of Fright Told In Five Brief Acts

Dramatis Personae:
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy (played by himself)
Apparent Antagonist of Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy
Ordinary Guy (played by your truly)
Fellow Witness
Prescient Subway Rider

Setting:
(Uptown-bound ‘F’ train platform, Delancey Street Station, January 31, 2005, 6:55 p.m.
A large gray trash bag lies split near the edge of the train platform. Its contents, roughly a dozen cartons of multi-pack Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding, lie helter-skelter in a heap. An argument several meters away is concluding. Enter Ordinary Guy, running late for an uptown appointment.)

Act One:
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Look, motherfucker, give me another motherfucking quarter.
Apparent Antagonist of Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy (incredulously): Another one?
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Are you deaf, motherfucker? Gimme another motherfucking quarter. (Gesturing toward bag of pudding) What about my motherfucking pudding, motherfucker?!
Ordinary Guy (to self): Uh-oh...
Apparent Antagonist of Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy (hurriedly fishing quarter from pocket and fleeing): Here.
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Goddamn right, motherfucker! Motherfucking pudding!

Act Two:
(Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy has returned to his pudding and is beginning to try to place the cartons in the bag so as to be able to carry them despite the bag’s tear. Inexplicably, however, rather than pick up the pudding from a position maximizing his distance from where the train would pass, he has placed himself on the opposite side of the bag, on the very edge of the platform. Seemingly oblivious to the danger of being either struck by an oncoming train or accidently tumbling backward into the pit, his heels are within two or three inches of the edge of the platform. Without bending his knees, Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy reaches down to collect the pudding cartoons; this causes his ass to ride high and protrude over the edge of the platform and into the space of any train that were to approach.)
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Motherfucking pudding!

Act Three:
(An uptown train approaches the far end of the platform.) Ordinary Guy (about two columns up the platform): Hey, dude, train’s coming!
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Relax, motherfucker! I got it covered.
(Several seconds pass. Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy’s ass is still hanging over the edge of the platform. He appears utterly unconcerned. The train’s frantic horn pierces the platform. Brakes squeal.)
Ordinary Guy (shouting): Dude!

Act Four:
(Ordinary Guy and Fellow Witness stand transfixed and helpless as the critical moment arrives. Will the train clip Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy’s right ass-cheek, crushing it and sending him spinning to the hospital--or morgue--head over heels? Or will it miss him by the most infinitesimal of margins? Why doesn’t Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy at least bend at the knees to help get his ass out of the way?)
Fellow Witness: OH MY GOD!!
Swiss Miss Vanilla Pudding-Or-Die Guy: Motherfucking pudding!

Act Five:
(Ordinary Guy and Fellow Witness have boarded the train.)
Ordinary Guy: Jesus, that was close!
Fellow Witness: I’ve never seen anything like that. I think it actually brushed him!
Ordinary Guy: I think you're right! Jesus!
Fellow Witness: Imagine risking your life for a bag of pudding!
Prescient Subway Rider: Swiss Miss?

I’m not shitting you. This really happened, just as recounted above. Ask Fellow Witness!



this is in or around my very eyes

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