His Monologue

Last week, I sat beside a man on the bus who was so drunk he confused his inner monologue with the conversation he thought he was having with me.

As I sat there, the man leaned his head in and asked, "Are you Japanese?"

I don't look Japanese, and he sure as hell didn't either. I answered, "No. Are you?"

"Oh God, that's funny...Oh God, she answered me." He let out a roar of a laugh. "But my daughter is part Japanese."

"Oh, how old is your daughter?", I asked.

"She's sixteen." Then he turned towards the sky and said "Oh God, I can't believe I'm doing this...she could be my daughter's age."

Me: "Uh...doing what?"

Him: "Auuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhh God, I can't believe I'm doing this."

Me: "You can't believe you're having a conversation?"

Him: "Yeah, but I'm like...forty something...how old are you?"

Me: "Um, I don't really feel comfortable telling..."

Him: "Oh God, that's too young. Auuugh, ok, this is my stop, I shouldn't be doing this. Have a good night."