Brandon 2
KitaRoute 409
August 29th 2007 09:52
*Note: To protect the identities of those innocent the route number has been changed.
*Note 2: This is a work of fiction, any similarities between your bus ride and my bus ride to work are purely coincidental, as am I.
My lil brother once wanted to go to the Circus, I didn't. Not that I've ever been to the circus of the big top variety or have anything against it, just that I go to the circus every day for three hours. It runs on four wheels and takes me to work and back. Yes it’s the bus.
The bus I take is the 409, running a nice full hour and a half trip all the way to my work, it’s an end to end thing, I get on at the departure point and get off at the end point. On this way many clowns and animals hop on and off the bus.
Like the other day, it was yet another ice cold morning as the bus came down and three people, myself included hopped into the empty bus. First one of the day, or at least the first one since four am (which was about two hours ago anyway). The other two people, how do you describe them? One smelled like pizza and the other was a fat woman, not that I’d hold it against her for being fat but she annoyed me.
She had really long nails, painted black, short hair and was dressed like she were experiencing her midlife crisis or perhaps thinking she was artistic to do so. Holding a packet of lollies in hand she was munching on them while looking down the bus, her bare feet on the chair next to hers, and yes, even there her nails were over grown and black. I could smell the damned lollies from the other side of the buss and they smelled like sweet, fat, sweat and shame.
The bus drove off, after the bus driver had finished flirting with the fat woman, down the road, and as always stopped at the first stop, the one that was right in front of a creepy house, the kind that looked abandoned, though odds were there was an old lady living in it. Speaking of which in came the grand ma, a seriously old woman who looked like she was going to fall apart, joint for joint, limb for limb.
I always feared for her life, not that I’d cared for her as a person, just that, if she started dying on that bus by way of some old person disease, what would I do? What if she needed CPR? Or worse yet the kiss of life? I know how to perform both, but she’s so old… and I don’t want my first kiss to involve a 99 year old grandma. In hindsight maybe she was the owner of the creepy looking house.
As usual she sat right up front, as usual I hoped the bus driver knew CPR.
Off went the bus, fat woman munching, pizza smelling man smelling, old woman trying to maintain her physiological integrity. While many people get on and off the bus it is largely empty until about half way through the route (during mornings at least), we arrive at this particular stop, right next to the train station.
Door opens, on come the retards. Please understand I’m not saying retard in any sort of vulgar manner, purely descriptive. A bunch of retards, from 25 to 45, mentally retarded adults. They of course came from some home for the mentally disabled and would come through the train being tugged along by two very much overweight social workers, who would basically have to take care of them (possibly change their diapers) for the trip to and fro.
At this point the fat woman finished with her packet of lollies, threw it on the ground and opened another packet of lollies to munch on.
On went the bus and a smell started emerging, now the smell of the sweets the fat woman was munching on was slowly being integrated into this new smell. Yes, were talking about the smell of retard.
Picture the smell of fart, vomit and stupidity mixed with fat, sweet and shame and you have a stink nuclear bomb. I’d open the window to let some air in but god knows it’s so called I’d end up an icicle. It’s always at this point that I want to jump out of the bus gasping for breath but I couldn’t be late for work… at the salt mines.
Retards talk, as always, they talk of random happenings and whatnot, mostly retard talk, nothing I can understand. There is this one retard in between them, she must be 19 at most. She always goes to pains separating herself from the core group of retards, always hopping on the bus first and scuttling to the back. She knows the two fat social workers would force her to sit with the main group if she doesn’t get her say first. In a way, I feel sorry for her, maybe she realizes she is a retard and doesn’t want to be associated with the other retards. Every time I think about it that way I think that if I had to have sex with one of them, I’d have sex with her.
Off goes the bus again, at this point I’m blue in the face, the smell is intoxicating, the amount of inferior people surrounding me is causing my brain to melt through some sort of vibe retarded/fat/dumb people emanate. So here I am getting solace from the idea that it won’t get much worse than this when four people get on at the stop, about 25 minutes from the salt mines. Two teenagers, one male, one female, and two kids, one male one female. I’m quite sure the two kids are the female teenagers siblings, but that’s just purely my opinion.
The kids were dressed like little mongrels, they both wore torn and stained clothes, the boy had a piercing, a terrible haircut and a fake pen drawn tattoo on his face, pen marks and everything all over his arms. Wait until he’s 18 and those will evolve into needle marks no doubt. His sister (or at least I assume) had paint marks all over her face, her fingers still rainbow coloured from last weeks finger painting at Kindy no doubt.
Now as usual, these two teenagers, start talking about how gay their friends and each other are. At least the retards from before were retards, legally dumb, but these people, they’re meant to be rational, meant to have brains and whatnot. But nooooo, all aboard the retard express, accusing each other and their friends of being gay, PRETTY MUCH FOR THE WHOLE TRIP UNTIL THE END OF THE ROUTE. Imagine hearing them say ‘you’re gay’, ‘no you’re gay’, ‘oh Jakes gay’, ‘and you’re gay’, ‘you’re bi’, ‘michelle is bi’, ‘you’re a lesbian’.
To be continued (edited and so forth)…
*Note 2: This is a work of fiction, any similarities between your bus ride and my bus ride to work are purely coincidental, as am I.
Tis an ooold bus
The bus I take is the 409, running a nice full hour and a half trip all the way to my work, it’s an end to end thing, I get on at the departure point and get off at the end point. On this way many clowns and animals hop on and off the bus.
Like the other day, it was yet another ice cold morning as the bus came down and three people, myself included hopped into the empty bus. First one of the day, or at least the first one since four am (which was about two hours ago anyway). The other two people, how do you describe them? One smelled like pizza and the other was a fat woman, not that I’d hold it against her for being fat but she annoyed me.
She had really long nails, painted black, short hair and was dressed like she were experiencing her midlife crisis or perhaps thinking she was artistic to do so. Holding a packet of lollies in hand she was munching on them while looking down the bus, her bare feet on the chair next to hers, and yes, even there her nails were over grown and black. I could smell the damned lollies from the other side of the buss and they smelled like sweet, fat, sweat and shame.
The bus drove off, after the bus driver had finished flirting with the fat woman, down the road, and as always stopped at the first stop, the one that was right in front of a creepy house, the kind that looked abandoned, though odds were there was an old lady living in it. Speaking of which in came the grand ma, a seriously old woman who looked like she was going to fall apart, joint for joint, limb for limb.
I always feared for her life, not that I’d cared for her as a person, just that, if she started dying on that bus by way of some old person disease, what would I do? What if she needed CPR? Or worse yet the kiss of life? I know how to perform both, but she’s so old… and I don’t want my first kiss to involve a 99 year old grandma. In hindsight maybe she was the owner of the creepy looking house.
As usual she sat right up front, as usual I hoped the bus driver knew CPR.
Off went the bus, fat woman munching, pizza smelling man smelling, old woman trying to maintain her physiological integrity. While many people get on and off the bus it is largely empty until about half way through the route (during mornings at least), we arrive at this particular stop, right next to the train station.
Door opens, on come the retards. Please understand I’m not saying retard in any sort of vulgar manner, purely descriptive. A bunch of retards, from 25 to 45, mentally retarded adults. They of course came from some home for the mentally disabled and would come through the train being tugged along by two very much overweight social workers, who would basically have to take care of them (possibly change their diapers) for the trip to and fro.
At this point the fat woman finished with her packet of lollies, threw it on the ground and opened another packet of lollies to munch on.
On went the bus and a smell started emerging, now the smell of the sweets the fat woman was munching on was slowly being integrated into this new smell. Yes, were talking about the smell of retard.
Picture the smell of fart, vomit and stupidity mixed with fat, sweet and shame and you have a stink nuclear bomb. I’d open the window to let some air in but god knows it’s so called I’d end up an icicle. It’s always at this point that I want to jump out of the bus gasping for breath but I couldn’t be late for work… at the salt mines.
Retards talk, as always, they talk of random happenings and whatnot, mostly retard talk, nothing I can understand. There is this one retard in between them, she must be 19 at most. She always goes to pains separating herself from the core group of retards, always hopping on the bus first and scuttling to the back. She knows the two fat social workers would force her to sit with the main group if she doesn’t get her say first. In a way, I feel sorry for her, maybe she realizes she is a retard and doesn’t want to be associated with the other retards. Every time I think about it that way I think that if I had to have sex with one of them, I’d have sex with her.
Off goes the bus again, at this point I’m blue in the face, the smell is intoxicating, the amount of inferior people surrounding me is causing my brain to melt through some sort of vibe retarded/fat/dumb people emanate. So here I am getting solace from the idea that it won’t get much worse than this when four people get on at the stop, about 25 minutes from the salt mines. Two teenagers, one male, one female, and two kids, one male one female. I’m quite sure the two kids are the female teenagers siblings, but that’s just purely my opinion.
The kids were dressed like little mongrels, they both wore torn and stained clothes, the boy had a piercing, a terrible haircut and a fake pen drawn tattoo on his face, pen marks and everything all over his arms. Wait until he’s 18 and those will evolve into needle marks no doubt. His sister (or at least I assume) had paint marks all over her face, her fingers still rainbow coloured from last weeks finger painting at Kindy no doubt.
Now as usual, these two teenagers, start talking about how gay their friends and each other are. At least the retards from before were retards, legally dumb, but these people, they’re meant to be rational, meant to have brains and whatnot. But nooooo, all aboard the retard express, accusing each other and their friends of being gay, PRETTY MUCH FOR THE WHOLE TRIP UNTIL THE END OF THE ROUTE. Imagine hearing them say ‘you’re gay’, ‘no you’re gay’, ‘oh Jakes gay’, ‘and you’re gay’, ‘you’re bi’, ‘michelle is bi’, ‘you’re a lesbian’.
To be continued (edited and so forth)…
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Yeah I will, I will, soon as I'm done with my work uni assignment feeling sorry ofr myself for the day