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With infinite guile, "Banny" Slumaski bit several pieces of dead skin off the tips of his fingers and arranged the detritus on the arm of his chair in a semicircle. Surveying his efforts with an expert eye, Slumaski could not detect a single flaw--Holy shit! Hitting just the right note of modesty, he addressed the throng of teammates who (he imagined) were surrounding him and chanting his name. Hey it was no big deal...I just got lucky today.
OK, enough of that. Was it time for phase two? A surreptitious glance around the bus station established to his satisfaction that nobody was looking at him. Very well, then: proceed according to plan. Here Slumaski deftly inserted a forefinger into his right nostril, rootled around and eventually withdrew a portion of mucus. He inspected his harvest closely and rendered his judgement with wryly smug understatement: Not too bad. In fact, he felt a surge of elation about the crusty, blood-speckled globule he'd produced. A crafty pretend-yawn enabled him to deposit the precious, salty morsel into his mouth without detection. Ka-ching! Slumaski was in the home stretch...
Steady now, steady now...wait for it... Ten to one rolled around at last. In a flash, Slumaski inserted a pinky into his left ear, dug around and...his heart leapt! Well, well, well. What have we here? A jackpot-sized lump of wax was casually extracted and in no time was safely residing on the underside of his chair. It was all over.
Slumaski realized he was shaking like a leaf. A freaking hat trick. It was almost too much. Still, there was one final matter to attend to before proper celebration could begin...something, he reflected grimly, that could call his whole triumph into question unless properly examined and taken care of.
Why were there so many goddamn Chinamen in the station?
Date Written: April 11, 2003
Author: Jon Matza
Average Vote: 4.75