Number 79 bus

I always sit on the same seat when I get on the 79 bus. I can’t believe how busy it is and that someone else is sitting in my seat. This overweight blonde woman who looks as if she is in a bit of a panic and I wonder what her problem is januvia medication. Maybe she’s late for her next massage client. He’s a big chap and she needs to be quite firm. Sometimes he pays for ‘extras’ and, being the obliging girl that she is, she lets him have at it. She needs the extra money to feed little Johnnie and keep her unemployed younger lover in fags and booze.

As my hand shoots up to my mouth to quell my impending giggle I notice the man next to me staring. Nosy bastard.

Finally blonde fatty gets up and I get myself ready to take her place and sit in my regular spot but a loud black man on the phone, with unusually small hands, beats me to it. He uses those small hands to dig graves. He works at the local cemetery and they have to give him extra time to dig the holes on account of his unusually small hands. Then at night he uses that large voice to sing karaoke in the pub. The women are always impressed by his deep voice and large body but wonder about the size of his hands and whether they are an early indication of lacking in other departments.

When HE gets up to leave there is someone standing waiting for a seat. He is directly in front of me so I can’t push past to get to my favourite spot. I assume he is going to be the next person in the hot seat but as luck would have it he is getting off and moves towards the stairs.

As people shuffle forward to get off the bus new people get on and would you believe it, before I have a chance to take up my position some guy with long greasy hair jumps in. He looks as if he could do with being fed a meal or two so he doesn’t blow over in the wind. He has no life, no friends and only his old mother and her cat for company. She cooks him egg and chips every Friday night and records countdown so they can watch it together later that evening. He has never worked and yet he is never at home during the way. She often wonders where he spends his days but is too afraid to ask in case he tells her to mind her own f’ing business; his standard reply to most of her questions. This skinny greasy haired man and his nights are spent playing online games and watching lesbian porn. He prefers girl on girl porn to the regular stuff.

The next stop is mine so I am going to have to forego my spot for today. As I stand up to get off I notice a woman sitting a few chairs behind me get up and sit in the chair I just vacated and I can’t help but wonder how her story about me went.

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2 thoughts on “Number 79 bus

  1. Brilliant. I’ll never see my bus journey’s in the same light again. You really had me engrossed looking into people’s lives around you. Everyone just sits there staring out the window, looking at each other with short glances and it’s great to imagine what actually could be happening with them. And I loved the last paragraph – it’s their turn now.

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    • Thanks Rum 🙂
      I wasn’t sure about the last line and I still feel uneasy about it when I read it. I wanted to say “its their turn now” but it just doesn’t read right to me but I wasn’t sure how else to put it so it is there for now. These stories are usually first drafts. By the time they get into an eBook or make it into a book they have been edited a few times!

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