Wednesday, March 31, 2010

The Small Motorized Chamber of Horrors

Yesterday, I dropped my CV off at the Town Planning Department down by the water, and caught the municipal bus home.  I do wish this town ran proper school buses - two stops from "downtown" we stopped outside the High School and half of the eighth grade poured on and I discovered why the other grown up passengers on the bus had competed to squeeze into the front two seats.
Perhaps it's a generational thing - but I don't remember anyone swearing nearly as much when I was in junior high.  Where we used adjectives, these kids toss around expletives like popcorn.  The bus echoed with "F*** this" and "S**t HER" and - "Oi James - you're a Sheepf****r!" 
I pricked up my ears - I'd never heard THAT one before.

Sitting in front of me was a baby faced thirteen year old boy with buck teeth and rosy cheeks and a sprinkling of freckles, whose highest aim in life was to spend it hanging over the top of my head shoving his middle finger into the face of the girl behind me.
            "STOP that, James" she tittered, fluttering her mascara.  "I can't believe you.  You're SO mean!"
Being forced to bend my head sideways, I was inclined to agree.  I shot him a look.  He graciously moved twelve inches sideways and stuck his tongue out at me.
My cell phone rang - it was my sister, I think, but the ringing profanity and steam whistle titters drowned her out. 
            "Can I call you back later?"  I said.  "I can't hear you in here."
            "She says she can't hear!"  James yelled.
            "What did she say?"  The girls screamed back.
            "She says she can't HEAR!"  He bawled and bounced up and down in my face, waving his middle finger furiously three inches from my nose.

I was Absolutely. Fed. UP. 
So I laughed at him - looked him in the eye and roared with laughter, and when I was done laughing, I shook my head - very very sorrowfully.
            "It's not working."  I said to him kindly, and I shook my head again. And sighed.

            "What did she say?" the kids on the bus roared, hoping for more games.
"She said it's not working."  James said in a small voice, and turned away to concentrate on hitting the daylights out of the boy across the aisle. 
            "You're SOOOO mean, James" the girl behind me piped hopefully, but she'd lost him - he wasn't going to risk turning around and catch me looking back at him.  Little snot.

At the next stop, the kids from the private school got on, and they were either Best Friends or Worst Enemies of the kids from the public high school so the noise level doubled, but they yelled at each other, not across me.
Worryingly, James and his pack of ratbags all got off at the stop next to our house, but I'm acting on the assumption that they live in the other direction and that I have nothing to worry about vis. eggs on the windows or T.P. in the shrubbery.

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