She was running in that bouncy, girly way that women run when they're wearing heels, even though she was not wearing heels. She was a few years younger than me and judging from her scent, she had recently bathed her entire body in cheap Scotch. She wass drunker than the drunkest person at Drunky O'Drunks House of Big Drunks.
She took up a position halfway between us and the gutter, literally and metaphorically, and spoke in what appeared to be a Swedish accent:
"Oh my Got you guys I yust got firet from my job!"
The next few minutes are all a blur, probably because I was getting a contact blitz from the reek of drugstore liquor coming off her in waves. I do remember her saying that she "hated her job and fock it" and that possibly it was her "birstay", and also she did a number of cheerful, inebriated dances. I briefly wondered what her job had been, though I did not wonder why she got fired from it.
Later, she got off the bus, and ran down the street towards the lesbian bowling alley, staggering as far as her drunk little legs could carry her. She looked so happy. GOOD LUCK, POLLUTED JOBLESS SWEDISH GIRL!