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Why I Hate The Bus

I take this bus to work and back every day. Every day I sit in the seat at the back, tired and miserable. Sometimes I stare out the window at the grey skies and littered streets of my shitty town, but usually I just watch the people I’m forced to sit with.

Like the fat chick that sits two seats in front of me and spends her time on the bus picking her nose and flicking it at the people who walk by. I never see her get on or off. I think she just likes to spend her useless time annoying others.

And the tweaker that can’t stay in one seat for more than two minutes. He just moves around, from seat to seat, asking people if they can spare a cigarette or some change. Even when they say no he’ll just ask them again in a few minutes.

Or the single mother who spends her time on babbling on her iPhone about how her man doesn’t respect her and how her life is so hard while her toddler kicks people in the shins and screams.

And it’s only after I pull out the gun that I realize none of them are on the bus today.

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