My Driver Is A Crafty, Crafty Stalker

Junkies … on boarding the bus! (Note: this post has been corrected.)

{Scruffy man clomps up the stairs and stands vacantly before the driver.}

Bus Driver: Fare is $1.50.

Scruffy Man: I ain’t got no money.

Bus Driver: Well, the fare is $1.50.

{Pause while Scruffy Man grapples with cognitive dissonance.}

Scruffy Man: I’m gonna get on the bus.

{Pause while bus driver waits for Scruffy Man to make good on his threat. Scruffy Man stands inertly until he’s obviously forgotten what’s going on.}

Scruffy Man: Can I get on the bus?

Bus Driver: Well, I ain’t gonna kick you off, let’s put it that way.

{Long pause while Scruffy Man noodles out the ramifications of this statement.}

Scruffy Man: Where does this bus go?

Bus Driver: Where are you trying to go?

Scruffy Man: Home.

Bus Driver: Where’s “home”?

{Scruffy man becomes abruptly alarmed.}

Scruffy Man: Are you asking me where I live?!

Bus Driver: Yeah.

Scruffy Man: Fuck you, asshole!!

[Second, Completely Fictitious Scruffy Man: I shall exit the bus as well.]

{Exeunt Scruffy Man[s]. Doors close, bus leaves the curb, passengers are silent for a few seconds.}

Elderly lady, to no one in particular: That was kind of weird.

Correction: (Note: This correction has errata.) A previous version of this entry accurately reported that only one Scruffy Man was involved in this incident. Shortly after posting, however, I received what could only be described as a flurry of emails from drama majors, Latin scholars, and grammar nerds, all of whom informed me that “exeunt” is, in fact, a plural, and should only be used when two or more people are exiting. I have therefore taken the liberty of inserting a second, gratuitous Scruffy Man into the piece, which I believe solves the problem quite nicely.

Errata: Upon reflection, it occurs to me that the quantity of email I received could also be describes as a “bevy,” a “passel,” or a “slew”.

Update: Someone just wrote and informed me that “errata” is also plural. SHUT UP INTERNET!!

Bugle Boys

Junkies … On The Bus! (Another in a series …)

JotB: The woman at the clinic said she wasn’t gonna give me any more methadone. I told her I was totally fine now, that I didn’t have the impulsive behavior or violent thoughts anymore, but she still said no. If she was a man I would’a hit her.


JotB1: … so I told her, “hey, stop trumpeting my intentions.”

JotB2: Trum-peting?

JotB1: You know, like a trumpet. Like, blowing your horn.

JotB2: Blowing your horn?

JotB1: You know, like talkin’ shit.

JotB2: Oh sure. I mean, yeah.


Guys sitting behind me on the bus yesterday:

Guy 1: I hate that guy Alec.
Guy 2: He’s a dick.
Guy 1: No kidding. [Pause] I did his girlfriend. Right after they broke up. Whatshername.
Guy 2: Which one? The blond one?
Guy 1: No, the other one. Whatshername. The one with the big tattoo. What was her name?
Guy 2: The tattoo on her belly? Oh yeah, I did her too. What was her name?
Guy 1: I can’t remember. But she was wild.
Guy 2: She was totally wild. She stole my truck once. Shit, what was her name?