Chicago, IL –You don’t know it yet, but there’s no chance you’re making that appointment. You’re definitely not letting your dog out before it shits all over your shag carpet. And there’s absolutely no chance in hell you’re meeting up with your friends for happy hour. Not that they’d want to see you after what’s about to happen anyways.

Those who succumb to the unholy hatred which accompanies an incompetent transit system are unfit for human interaction for at least a week. An almost incomprehensible hatred, compounded only by its futility, you respectfully suffer in silence. You text friends in an effort to somehow alleviate the burden.

The omnipotent beings huffing keyboard duster and hastily coordinating train and bus schedules are feeling vengeful today. Several haven’t had a bowel movement in months and another lies limply in a butterfly fuck swing, fast asleep from exhaustion after trying and failing to wipe his own ass.

The entrails and excess of the orgy of ineptitude feverishly taking place at CTA headquarters is ready to rain down on undeserving commuters. What will challenge your already fragile mental state today?

Expect significant delays: A Blue Line driver is having a dead pigeon guide him through an Ayahuasca trip on the tracks at Damen.

Expect significant delays: A passenger passed out while beating his meat to a Ponderosa ad offering BOGO sirloins.

Expect significant delays: Flaming Hot Cheetos on the tracks at Division.

Expect significant delays: Driver of the train is a Dog the Bounty Hunter impersonator.

Expect significant delays: Turkey frosting.

Expect significant delays: Your Xanax prescription feels light.

Expect significant delays: We have given up.

With any luck you’ll be home with enough time to cry yourself to sleep. So enjoy, because today you’ve been fucked over by a chicken shit city transit.