Brandon 2
KitaBus Stop
December 9th 2007 10:55
PROMPT: Depict an interaction between three characters.
The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette, shifting uncomfortably on the bus stop seat. He stuffs it between his lips and tries unsuccessfully to light it.
“Fuck,” he says, turning to the man to one side of him. “You got a light, Bro?”
“No, sorry, I don’t smoke,” he says, his voice toned with a Yankee twinge.
The man pauses to push a dreadlock behind his ear, turning to the man on his other side. “What about you mate? Got a light?”
“Sure,” he says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve it, and handing it over.
“Cheers bro,” says the man. He lights his cigarette and hands the lighter back, looking at the man curiously. “You look familiar bro. I know you?”
“I’m not certain,” he says. “You might have seen me around if you’re local; I’m in the local police force.”
The man stares for a moment then grins pointing “You fined me once, right? Drunk and disorderly conduct in public, yeah?”
“I couldn’t tell you mate, that one gets thrown around a bit in this area.”
“Yeah, righto. Think it was you. Shit dude, you must hate people like me eh?”
“Not really. You see a lot of types of people while working in the force, and if the worst they do is get drunk and stumble around, that’s none too bad.”
“I guess eh? Killers and kiddy fiddlers and such?”
The policeman nods. “And such.”
“Day off?”
He nods again. “Family Barbecue. Celebrating a new member of the family.”
“Oh good stuff bro, good stuff. By marriage or birth?”
“Birth, newborn kid.”
“Oh, good stuff mate.”
The man takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at the guy beside him. “What about you bro? What do you do?”
“I’m in electronic sales,” he says, looking away.
“Oh, like TVs and shit, yeah?”
“Computer sales.”
“Oh OK yeah… Sorry mate, the fag bothering you?”
The salesman turns sharply. “What?” he says, with an air of hostility, before seeing the cigarette and making the connection. “Oh, um… you’re good.”
“Sorry, shouldn’t call them fags eh, political correctness. Addicted, you know? Should give up yeah, but real tough you know? Been smoking since grade nine.”
“Sure,” says the salesman. “I’m just slightly asthmatic is all.”
“Oh sure bro, I’ll powersmoke it.” The man turns to the policeman. “You’d know how it is bro. Can’t get off it.”
“Well… there’s a book I had called…. Only effective way to quit smoking, Alan Bus, or Alan Train or something. Look for it on the Internet.”
“Yeah bro yeah, good idea… just the other day like, just in the middle of the surf and, cos I like surf full time and shit, you know, and um.. just short of breath, yeah? Like that’d be hard for you too, running out of steam chasing criminals and shit?”
“Doesn’t happen with any real regularity, but I agree you can feel the effects.”
The man turns to the salesman. “Do you hire out Internet use and shit bro?”
“No,” he says sharply, then peers up. “Bus is coming. Thank God.” He cringes as he says it. The last bit was meant to be muttered under his breath.
The man reaches into his pocket, pulling out a cigarette, shifting uncomfortably on the bus stop seat. He stuffs it between his lips and tries unsuccessfully to light it.
“Fuck,” he says, turning to the man to one side of him. “You got a light, Bro?”
“No, sorry, I don’t smoke,” he says, his voice toned with a Yankee twinge.
The man pauses to push a dreadlock behind his ear, turning to the man on his other side. “What about you mate? Got a light?”
“Sure,” he says, reaching into his pocket to retrieve it, and handing it over.
“Cheers bro,” says the man. He lights his cigarette and hands the lighter back, looking at the man curiously. “You look familiar bro. I know you?”
“I’m not certain,” he says. “You might have seen me around if you’re local; I’m in the local police force.”
The man stares for a moment then grins pointing “You fined me once, right? Drunk and disorderly conduct in public, yeah?”
“I couldn’t tell you mate, that one gets thrown around a bit in this area.”
“Yeah, righto. Think it was you. Shit dude, you must hate people like me eh?”
“Not really. You see a lot of types of people while working in the force, and if the worst they do is get drunk and stumble around, that’s none too bad.”
“I guess eh? Killers and kiddy fiddlers and such?”
The policeman nods. “And such.”
“Day off?”
He nods again. “Family Barbecue. Celebrating a new member of the family.”
“Oh good stuff bro, good stuff. By marriage or birth?”
“Birth, newborn kid.”
“Oh, good stuff mate.”
The man takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at the guy beside him. “What about you bro? What do you do?”
“I’m in electronic sales,” he says, looking away.
“Oh, like TVs and shit, yeah?”
“Computer sales.”
“Oh OK yeah… Sorry mate, the fag bothering you?”
The salesman turns sharply. “What?” he says, with an air of hostility, before seeing the cigarette and making the connection. “Oh, um… you’re good.”
“Sorry, shouldn’t call them fags eh, political correctness. Addicted, you know? Should give up yeah, but real tough you know? Been smoking since grade nine.”
“Sure,” says the salesman. “I’m just slightly asthmatic is all.”
“Oh sure bro, I’ll powersmoke it.” The man turns to the policeman. “You’d know how it is bro. Can’t get off it.”
“Well… there’s a book I had called…. Only effective way to quit smoking, Alan Bus, or Alan Train or something. Look for it on the Internet.”
“Yeah bro yeah, good idea… just the other day like, just in the middle of the surf and, cos I like surf full time and shit, you know, and um.. just short of breath, yeah? Like that’d be hard for you too, running out of steam chasing criminals and shit?”
“Doesn’t happen with any real regularity, but I agree you can feel the effects.”
The man turns to the salesman. “Do you hire out Internet use and shit bro?”
“No,” he says sharply, then peers up. “Bus is coming. Thank God.” He cringes as he says it. The last bit was meant to be muttered under his breath.
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