On The Bus

On the Bus back from Sydney, I frequently encounter people who are strange. Or at least, stranger than me, which means they are putting in effort.

The guy next to me wouldn't stop scratching his balls. It was like he was worried they were going to vanish.

The guy behind me had turrets, or autism or something. He shouted at everyone to take pictures when something even vaguely interesting happened outside. He continually leaned round to see if I wanted to have a drink of water, "You want a drink Mate? Mate, mate? Maaaaate?"And he played with a very irritating piece of velcro for at least 2 hours. I wanted to hurt him.

The woman sitting in front of me was huge. She could have eaten me for breakfast. She was an islander, and was speaking some variant of Indonesian to her friend, very loudly.

I fell asleep despite these distractions. My head fell forward, and hit her head rest. She took this as a studied insult. She poked me in the face with a giant finger. The woke me up thoroughly.

When struck by a strong surge of emotion, such as when a giantess is glowering at you over the top of your bus seat, your body tries to make itself look bigger and more threatening by fluffing out it's fur. Unfortunately, this tactic does nothing at all to aid me when the hairs on my body are so finely spaced and small that no amount of fluffing will make me look anything but silly.

Location: The Dining Room