Please don't ride this bus
Based on a true story!
I'm not dead (yet), I just smell that way. It's because of school, mind you. And work. And my independent research. And piano lessons. And skating. And videogames. And... I think I do a lot of things. But hey, that PhD will be worth it.
Anyway, this is a little thing that I wrote on the bus one day, when inspiration struck. It's been a long time since I've had time to write for myself, and while this piece is a bit unpolished, I hope it still entertains you.
I am also working on a larger piece, with a lot more gayness in it. I can't promise it will be done soon, but it will be coming.
... that was a terrible pun.
Richard felt trapped in the bus. It was not usually the case that he would forget to bring a book, or a videogame, or even his phone to entertain himself. Truth is, he had left his bag at home in a rush, trampling his roommate on the way because he was late for work. Richard was not a morning person, you see, so when he realized it was 9:45 when his alarm was supposed to wake him at 8, he panicked. No time to shower, breakfast, brush his teeth or comb his mane. He threw on the first shirt he grabbed from his closet, sprayed some lotion on and ran out. In his morning haze, he failed to notice he didn't grab his bag. His wallet was still in his jacket pocket, thankfully, so he had that when he grabbed it from the entrance and ran out. It wasn't until he was already on the bus, waiting for that hour-long ride that he realized he had not brought anything with him. Right like a savage, he felt, without any form of entertainment; and without his phone, he was incommunicado. Kicked out and excomulgated of his virtual church, as is. He sat down quietly on an empty seat. From the outside, he was a stoic monolith, stiff and motionless, but from the inside he was screaming, ripping reality by the seams in a fire of anguish that could not be quelled. He looked at his watch; 10:05 it said, he was 5 minutes late already; at least his meeting was not until noon. He looked out the window to pass the time, watching house after house go by, each more generic than the last one. This one had a door, that one a window, praise the gods of architectural design! Each home with a tiny chimney sticking out, just as useless as the pause button on a keyboard; with the invention of heaters and electric fireplaces, no one actually used their chimneys anymore. He wondered what chimney sweepers did nowadays, since their line of work had long since died out. Perhaps they all became bus drivers, and that's why they were always so disgruntled and smelly. That thought made him chuckle internally. That should have burnt a few minutes, right? He looked at his watch again: 10:07. Damn you, Chronos, Tempus, Horae, Etu, father time you big motherfucker you. Hope you trip and crash and hurt yourself you old fool, may someone step on your beard and elbow you in the face, may someone accidentally push you on the bus and not-so-accidentally step on you while you're on the floor. He considered smashing his watch. Then he thought it twice. He put his arm down and sighed. 10:08, are we there yet?
He looked at the folks around him. Disgusting animals, as usual, making rude noises, speaking loudly on the phone, occupying more than one seat at a time. He had carefully avoided sitting next to the hippo lady who was already half-melting over the next seat as if she was made of dough. He had just as much avoided the built-like-a-brick-wall jock sitting like he owned the bus and whose bag took a seat of its own like a very ugly child (like father like son, I suppose). And there was the vulture in a suit, probably a lawyer or a funeral home arranger or something grim like that. How much more generic can you get?
10: 15. Now we're making progress! Only 45 minutes to go. He closed his eyes and hoped still to be sleepy enough to catch a quick power-nap. Turns out he was, but only for 8 more minutes. Ah, but there's the metro station, at least the bus will be a lot more empty now that everyone's getting down here.
The bus doors open and a rush of rudeness spewed out like a college student at a frat party after too much drinking. Ah, what peace followed! Richard looked around and noticed there were only three other people left in the bus, and only an old lady coming up. She'll just sit on some of the empty seats at the front and---
The lady sat next to him.
Richard wanted to strangulate her. Wrap his hands around her neck and wring the life out of her until her old scaly skin cracked. What a crocodile, she was! What a piece of work, the nerve of this people. Why did she have to walk all the way to the middle of the bus and sit next to him? Richard begrudgingly uncrossed his legs, which he had crossed up when the bus cleared out, and made room for her. Cursing her under his breath, he stewed in bitterness for the better part of thirteen minutes. Then he turned to the lady, and said "excuse me".
The old lady swiveled on her seat to let him pass, barely letting enough room for him to walk to the door. Of course, blocking the way to the rear seats by doing this. Richard grumbled again "excuse me!" in a louder tone. The lady was confused for a moment, and Richard hoped her tiny brain was able to understand what manner of stupid she was being when he sat in an empty seat right at the back. Ah, finally freedom to stretch out! And it's... 10:47! Good, only a bit longer and I'll just...
And then he remembered. The reason his alarm had not rung, the reason why he was late, and why the bus driver was especially nasty today, was because it was a statutory holiday and the offices would be closed today. He blushed, and brushed his hair down fretfully. I mean, he might as well get off here and take the bus back. He rang the stop button and dismounted the bus, hoping no one would notice him walking across the street with his tail between his legs.
He checked his watch. Only one hour to go...