I.
Man: That girl — her biscuits ain’t fully baked.
Other Man: Shake ‘n’ Bake!
Man: But nobody helped.
II.
I stepped onto the empty elevator, going down, and it smelled like fresh fart. It wasn’t stifling, but it saturated the small space and didn’t seem to dissipate during the entire three-second journey. The whole ride down I just knew that as soon as I stepped off onto the first floor, someone would be there waiting — someone I knew and worked with — to step onto the fart-clouded elevator, thinking to him/herself that the least I could have done was held it until I got to the restroom.
No one was waiting to get on.