Gusty Blusts

and other stories The Weird and Wonderful World of "J"
Approx 408 words | Read time approx 2 - 3 mins

Encounters of the contagious kind

man with red spots on stomachWrists with red rash

Just what is it about public places and complete strangers feeling the need to expose random parts of their anatomy to you? I wouldn’t mind but I’d only ventured into Boot’s for a tube of toothpaste . . .

THE FIRST INCIDENT occurred while passing through the cosmetics section where, for some reason, I was accosted by a young lad wanting my opinion on which colour foundation would best suit his skin shade.

Quite why he bypassed both the two cosmetic assistants present, not to mention the three other members of public that just so happened to be in the aisle at the same time, I’ve absolutely no idea, but it got worse.

Turned out that the foundation wasn’t exactly for his face after all, but for a rather large and seriously disturbing red boil that he’d just conveniently unbuttoned his shirt collar to reveal to me . . .

The second unfortunate incident occurred in the toothpaste; sorry I mean ‘oral hygiene’ section: where a man, in his mid-forties walked down the aisle towards me, stopped about three feet away and started rummaging around in his pants, pulled up the front of his shirt with both hands and somewhat bizarrely remarked ‘ere what do you think I should do about these?’ While revealing what can perhaps only be described as a rather large and extremely pale stomach, randomly covered in a riot of red spatters.

The third incident occurred at the checkout (have these people no shame?), where for some peculiar reason, the woman in front of me decided I was obviously fair game for viewing what she somewhat inelegantly described as being her ‘sweaty wrists’.

Quite why anyone thought I might be remotely interested in various parts of their diseased anatomy is beyond me. Although having being subjected to a ‘sweaty wrist sighting’ the word ‘gammy’ would probably be more appropriate.

‘Urrrghhh!’ I exclaimed while physically recoiling in horror.
‘Told you I had sweaty wrists!’ She said with an alarming amount of smugness.
‘I think you better let someone have a look at those for you’ I said, meaning a suitably qualified member of the medical profession and not a random victim in a checkout queue.
‘I have done – I’ve just shown you haven’t I?’
‘No, not me – I mean you need to go see a doctor!’
‘Oooh no!’ she said, ‘I’d be far too embarrassed for that!’

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