seven

so i'm on my way home this afternoon standing against the door on the L--i find the door-seat divider position to be optimal. it's the one of the only ways to fend off contact with others as it assures you privacy on two sides, leaving you only two to defend.
anyway so i'm minding my business on the train listening to chris isaak, i think he's wonderful, when i start looking around at people and notice a teenager's, what an unfortunate age group, skin travesty. there's this d bag wearing an abercrombie hat with a frightening mole below his jaw.
who wears an abercrombie hat? who wears abercrombie? i admit they were ok back in the 90s and i even own a pair of their sleepy pants that i bought in the 90s. (it's worth mentioning that even in their heyday i did not procure logo ridden pajama bottoms b/c, let's be honest, those were never in style). this hopeless kid is wearing a newly minted "fitch" hat creased just so. it really hurts me that he thinks this' chic and sends the desired aesthetic message about his person. i wanted to tell him that this is most definitely not the message to send but thought better of it.
as if the hat is not insulting enough, the boy had a mole the size of my pinky nail with lots of hairs growing underneath his jaw. i suppose this location saves it from the razor's path, which apparently isn't frequently run as his scraggly, pubic-hair beard would indicate.
this mole had seven hairs growing out of it. seven. more than a parody of a teacher w/ a huge mole on her face. more than uncle buck's niece's principal had on her chin. seven. it's obscene. they were all of differing length, too, with the longest hair around a centimeter. totally the most revolting thing ever. why would he not pluck it?! why would he think that's acceptable to have? he must see it in the mirror. it was so gross and he totally caught me gaping as he moved away from me and shot me fuck-off eyes.
he can hate me all he wants. it won't make up for the fact that his mole has seven hairs growing out of it.