We Are Far Too Young and Clever

I was stopped at the lights the other day chewing on my thumb and listening to Dexy's Midnight Runners on the radio. A van with some boys in it pulled up just in front of me in the next lane.

One fresh-faced young chap put his head out the window and asked me, with a smirk, "Do you wanna listen to some bass?"

I thought it was an odd question and I was in a bit of a mood so I fixed him with what, in retrospect, I sincerely hope was a cool, unmoved look and said, "No thanks, buddy." Then the lights turned green and I sped off.

As I pushed my little shopping trolley around the green grocers I was musing on what a strange thing that was to ask and why did he think it was so funny and did I mistake what he said, did he ask me something else? After all, I was battling to hear him over the tale of poor old Johnny Ray (he sounded sad upon the radio, he moved a million hearts in mono).

Wanna listen to some bass?
Wanna listen to some bass?

What else does that sound like? I mused on this past the potatoes and the mushrooms and well into the seedless watermelon. It was only round at the baby spinach that my arm stopped mid-reach and I guffawed out loud as I realised that what that grinning young gentlemen had probably asked me was, "Do you wanna sit on my face?"

I'll never know for sure, but it doesn't matter. My answer would still have been the same.