It ain't your thyroid

I just hate elevators. Mostly its not even the elevators fault. In truth what I hate is the people in the elevator, and the close proximity that I am forced to share. It's also a proven fact of physics that time actually slows down in elevators, particularly when the people I share the ride with are fat, foul, or freaks, or some unholy combination there of.

Back in 2000 Julie and I lived in Knoxville. Try to imagine this; I lived in a high rise. Me. Mr. "I want no one within 1000 yards of my house". Not good. Anyway, we had to use elevators to get to our 10th floor apartment, and these elevators became the bane of my existence.

One day on my way out to work, I remember being particularly pissed at the world. Who knows why. Anyway... God smiled on me and I had the elevator to myself. Until...

7th floor. On shuffles this great bloated sow. She must've been 425 pounds... maybe 5'4" if she was lucky. The elevator felt like it dropped 6 inches when orca shuffled her lazy ass in. She stank to high Heaven... as you would expect... after all.. the poor woman basicly had armpits all over her body.

I was thinking about how discusted I was when this foul creature reached over and pushed the button for the 6th floor. 6. 1 less than 7.

As the elevator door opened for her I lost it...

"You know... Judging by your current condition... I don't think one flight of stairs would do you any harm."

The swell had just cleared the elevator door when she heard those words. She somehow managed to turn around and smarted off.

"I have a gland problem."

I just couldn't let that go..

"Oh... a gland problem? Really? Cause I would've sworn your problem would have been the pound of bacon, dozen eggs, gallon of milk, and two whole chickens you ate for breakfast this morning!"

The elevator door closed just as her eyes were going wide... Just in time...