Garlic Breath: An Outhouse Might be Easier
I have a question. Has anyone else noticed that some people can eat one clove of garlic and create a fifteen-foot exclusion zone around themselves? I'm not talking about a pleasant hint of garlic. I'm talking about the kind of garlic breath that arrives three minutes before the person does. You know the type. You're sitting in a movie theater minding your own business. The lights go down. The previews start. Then suddenly something drifts across the room. At first you think there must be a plumbing issue. Then you wonder if a skunk somehow got into the building. Then it hits you. Nope. Row 7, Seat B. Garlic Man has arrived. The amazing thing is that garlic breath doesn't travel in a straight line. It swirls. It lingers. It seeks out innocent bystanders. It creeps over theater seats and around corners like a low-budget horror movie. Scientists should study it. The military should probably not. And don't get me started on onion breath. Garlic breath is at least trying to be Italian. Onion breath is just angry. You can be standing in line at the grocery store and suddenly find yourself wondering if someone is carrying a sack of onions in their mouth. The worst part is that nobody knows how to handle the situation. There is no polite way to say:
"Sir, your breath just peeled the paint off my shopping cart."
"Ma'am, I believe your lunch is still actively participating in this conversation."
Instead, we smile politely while slowly backing away like we're negotiating with a bear. Personally, I think movie theaters should hand out emergency mints with every ticket purchase. Forget 3D glasses. Give me breath insurance. Because if I'm paying twelve dollars for popcorn, I shouldn't have to spend the entire movie wondering whether the smell next to me is garlic, onions, or something that escaped from an abandoned outhouse.
Just saying. "An outhouse might be easier and more useful."
(Photo by chatGPT)
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