Ok when it comes to smells on the MRT I know there’s a lot of people who either just don’t take showers in the morning or maybe use some kind of sweat scented soap if they do.

People continually over-scent themselves and then jam into the train.  Last week was no different.  A woman on the train had gotten slaphappy with her fragrance of choice.

Our actual conversation went like this.

me: *manly sneeze*

auntie: *unaware of surroundings*

And then it ended.  Without recourse.  Like many before it.  I should’ve a) let her know about it, b) made my friends proud by being able to report a story of witty proportions and c) made myself feel like a winner, but instead forgot my abc’s and said nothing.

In a more perfect world, the conversation would’ve gone like this.

me: *manly sneeze*

auntie: *unaware of surroundings*

me: Yes, it’s your fault.

auntie: Excuse me?

me: The reason I sneezed.

auntie: What?  I don’t –

me: Your perfume.  Too much.  It’s like you’re trying to cover up sin or something.

auntie: Who do you –

me: I’m the guy whose nostrils your “aura” just ravaged.

auntie: You should know, this “aura” costs $100 a bottle.

me: Then you should make a trip to small claims court and file for damages.  Because it also smells like it has real bits of panther in it.

auntie: And just what are you wearing?

me: [name of cologne]

auntie: Ha.  Never heard of it.

me: You also can barely smell it because I didn’t rig my shower to spray it rather than water.

auntie: It has to last the day.  *attempts to ignore and return to paper*

me: Auntie, that would last until the end of days.

auntie: *folds paper*  So. What?

me: So, to be fair, you should sniff that guy’s pit.  *nodding to the crotch-rubber sweating from the everywhere, on this hot and humid-morning, like it’s a part-time job*

auntie: You’re a rude little –

me:  Oh!  My stop.  There is a god and he can smell you, too.