Strangers and Candy

Where am I? Do I even care? I’ve been driving around for these last couple of hours. Heh. Waste of gas money. Don’t care. I have work in four hours. Don’t care. I don’t care because anything is better than being home right now.

I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t even want to watch my horror flicks. I didn’t want to wake up alone for another bone-grinding day of work. I’m tired of being responsible. It means nothing more than living paycheck-to-paycheck. Maybe if I had hadn’t fucked up everything, maybe if I had gone to school – ah, fuck it, I’m tired of thinking, too.


Advance to Go

I lost my virginity on the bus on the way to work, getting felt up by this kid dressed a lot like Crocadile from One Piece. Okay, so maybe his coat and my work apron helped cover things up a bit, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what his hands were doing under there if you were paying attention. Not that anyone was paying attention, because, well, it’s the bus. Strangers forced into close space tend ignore each other and keep their AT fields up. So I suppose existenial angst is good for something after all…

Anyway, after he makes me come in my pants, he asks me if I come here often (no, seriously, he did) and he hands me a card with his number on it. It’s one of those community chest cards from Monopoly – advance to go – and that’s when I remembered that I missed my stop for work.

I haven’t seen him since then, and I’ve been trying to figure out if I should call him.


A Fine And Public Place

Even if I could fly, even if I could teleport, even if I could be carried on a litter by a retinue of oil-slicked, muscled, and shirtless men, even if I could afford a car, I’d still prefer to ride the bus.


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