Tales of the Subway (Part II)

Point of order: the other day I made a typo and wrote "evern". I think this word should enter the English language. It would serve as useful shorthand for "ever even", or "even ever". (E.g.: "Gee, I don't think I've evern felt this God you keep talking about"). Consider it.

Now for the body of the exposition. Today I celebrated a friend's birthday, a friend who, I should add, has a penchant for unusual birthday parties. This particular one took place on the subway. There was a crowd of revellers, music, refreshments, food, a few cakes, gifts, confetti, balloons and dancing, all within the space of half a subway car. People kept getting on and off, and a few were curious enough to inquire what we were doing. Refreshments were given to all. A dude spread out on his seat led us in a rousing sixteen-bar blues chord progression. Someone eventually whipped out an accordion to entertain with polonaises and abortive jam sessions in A minor. We inspired a group of Pakistani youth to hoot and holler and jump around on the car to applause and cheers. Djembe-melodica counterpoint followed; confetti guns blew. The car rocked and rolled as it reached the end of the line and promptly turned around. We were cross-crossing the city; we were talking fuirously. We were tyring to introduce everyone to the two Dutch people we had just met a half hour before. We tried to make as much dissonance as humanly allowed. The accordion blasted out every note it could; guitar strings trembled in anaphasic glory; harmonicas blew their filthy tinniness; noismakers crackled and cackled; but the floor remained solid. Old Chinese men talked with bearded hipsters; old bums were pacified; the preachers of Dharma were nowhere to be found; our Pakistani co-revellers clapped their hands to Jewish songs from the old country; there was apple cider for every palate; Sri Lankan pastries chased rice balls and synthetic cake icing. Old lovers were temporarily reuinted on adequate terms. Fake arguments broke out and subsided (I wanted something in D minor but the man in the sunglasses would have none of it); fake subterfuge and skuldugger took over; improvised party games went on for a few minutes.

As I have a tendency to exaggerate, I want to explicitly say that all this is true.

Consider: "The juvenile sea squirt wanders through the sea searching for a suitable rock or hunk of coral to cling to and make its home for life. For this task, it has a rudimentary nervous system. When it finds its spot and takes root, it doesn't need its brain anymore so it eats it!"