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Thanks for having a guess yesterday! I love that all of you were funny and upbeat. This makes me particularly sorry to finish writing this Stone! which happened on Thursday late afternoon, on my way to capoeira class.
If you'd like to start at the beginning, CLICK HERE.
WARNING! Some !*!!f*^!!! ahead.
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"I'm on the bus," he said. "I'm on. the. bus. Why won't ya believe me?" His voice was heavy and thick. "Bus draiva!" he called out, "Tell er I'm on the bus!" I guess the driver ignored him, because he then said, "Woman! Boi! Tell er I'm on the bus! She won't believe me. Tell er!" The woman and boy must have ignored him too, because the next thing I heard was, "Tell er or I'll bite yer leg." By this time, there was some nervous fidgeting going round the bus and the bodies in front parted, just enough for me to see a man in dark clothes sitting on the floor next to the driver. I couldn't see his face. I heard a boy's voice say,"He's on the bus." Then the man, "Did ya hear that?" Then he fell silent and I think everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. After many, many seconds, "You keep the bag. Why don't ya just keep the fuckin bag." Minutes more followed of bag. Expletive. Bag. Expletive. I began to get an image in my head. Nasty break up, got thrown out, got drunk. Then, "Keep the bag mum. Keep it ya stewpid bitch." I dare say, we were all listening in by then and wishing the bus would move, just an inch, just to the corner with Sussex, just to the next stop. Eventually of course, it did. And although my stop was still up the road and round the corner, I jumped off, together with a good half of the passengers, away from the sad mad man.
Heard anything bizarre lately yourself? [Apart from the Armstrong interview.]
To find out more about Small Stones and the 30 day mindful writing challenge, CLICK HERE.
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13 comments:
Oh dear, I hears dis kinda stuff all da time next door...no, really I does.
Nows did I read dis right? He was talkin' to his mom likes dat? We don't talks to our mums dat way though...hers will get a hickory stick afters our butts.
Puddles
Dear PUDDS, I think that man needed a hickory stick on his butt too. Your neighbours. Really? Poo.
Nothing like public intoxication to make for good tale telling...
Ha! I recently heard about a story similar to this, except it was on a subway and the man was on the phone to his girlfriend, trying to convince her he really had been working late, not hooking up with some floozy in his office. Someone got tired of his too-loud voice and finally called out "Get off the f***ing phone and come back to bed!".
Don't know if the story was true or not, but every time I hear some idiot talking loudly on a cell phone in a public place, I wish I had the guts to yell that line!
Good one JEAN. I wish I was quick (and brave) enough to drop one liners like that too!
Ah, it's sad. I was hoping for a better ending! Something to do with rubber duckies... alas. But we really like your line about those strange Lance interviews.
I'll have to start taking the bus. My car has no excitement or drunks.
I thinks he had a hickory stick UP his butts!! OMD! How could anyones??? Well, if I was there, I would have bit him in the hinnie, thens the 'other side'...if he wants to swear, that'll give him a reason!!
Kisses,
Ruby
Oh RUBY, thank you! I wanted to say that but I thought I'd put enough bad thoughts into one post ;) It would have been nice if you'd been there to protect us. We were all very nervous.
Life is never dull when you take the bus. This is what I am always trying to tell my husband who mocks it and says I need to start driving. But I say public transit is full of great characters and interesting scenes, like the one you just described. Better than television any day!
Oh, gosh, I love what Jean said. Wouldn't it have been great if someone on your bus had said, "Another round for the bar!" Of course, then the man may have bitten someone...
The things you don't want to hear....
When I used to live in NYC, oh, the things you'd hear ... and see on the subways. Yikes.
I last got trapped on public transit this past summer in Paris, on the way to the airport. We'd planned around rush hour but were thwarted by construction on the lines that put seemed to put every. single. hot. sweaty. person. into our train car. My salvation? An old school hand-held fan that I always keep in my purse when traveling. Learned that trick during a summer trip to Spain and it's saved me during many a stifling summer waits on NYC train platforms. If the air is circulating, I can manage!
-c at ddy.
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