Tragically Fine

We paid no head. 

         I was once again riding what I had sworn away as a mild speed bump in my life, the bus. Little did I know that buses actually make horrible speed bumps, and mild is no way to describe it. I was taken deeply into the depths of a book, a.k.a. with my nose lodged in the binding, snoring loudly. Being taken into books is not the most relaxing way to rid a bus, neither is riding it barefoot with three-year-old cotton candy stuck between your toes. Both equally uncomfortable. And as all things that go up must come down, some people that go to sleep, must wake up. In this situation I did, in fact, wake up. Only six stops passed the destination I was aiming for. 

"This is the end of the line!"

"And..."

"You need to get off."

"Yeah."

"Now."

"Yep."

"So why aren't you getting off?"

"Why would I do that?"

           I guess I got my answer once the giant claw came down, picked me up, and threw me out of the bus by my collarbone; all of that while still gloating about how great a claw he was. 

           I got up, stood, waited, and pretended like I cared about what was going on in the world. Just like any other day. Only, any other day, there wouldn't be a triple-toothed, frightening-as-animatronic-dolls-at-night, old lady. Also waiting at the same stop that I was.

        Lady began to speak, "She knows where I'm going. She always knows where I'm going." The words that came out of her mouth are currently lobbying for a ban on any more audible phrases being forced through that horrible orifice. 

         I tried to laugh as genuinely as I could. It looked more like a failed attempt at appearing pretentious.

         "Come sit by me..."

         "Nah, I've been sitting all day."

         "Yeah, me too."   

         I wondered if that were actually true for her. Does she even ride the bus? Is she a bus stop hermit? Are there such things? Too many questions, too little attention span to figure them out. 

         I had no idea what to say and she had far too many ideas of what to say. She arose from her dwelling and slugged over to my very private patch of bus stop grass. 

         "As you can tell, I really like Eeyore!" Her jacket, tee-shirt, track pants, shoes, and belt, all agreed with her. And I can't leave out the giant Eeyore tattoo across what might be considered a neck. "But I like Tigger better," She cared to expound.  

         "You know...they also sell clothes that have Tigg....Nevermind."

        This conversation carried on too long. Three conversations too long, to be exact. Even when the bus came, the conversation continued. Ranging from speaking of Tigger puzzles to a top ten list of her favorite swear words. 

        Relief had never meant more to me than just the word "relief," until I left the bus and breathed the air. The pure air, free of creepy-person carbon dioxide. Pure relief.

        "What a great day!" I shouted.

        Then I heard a voice that condemns damned souls into further damnation. It was her. "Which is the way to the Apple rebate center?"

                                     Urbanely,

                                                       Kyle