Hello folks... welcome to the creative writing thread! There are only a few rules:
1. No criticism. If you don't like creative writing, poetry, or someones submission.... remember what Thumpers mother had to say.
2. If the author asks for critiqueing, please post the critique in a positive fashion.
And now for the show...
Illusions
“George,” said I, “what do you make of these people around us?”
Scanning the bus with casual indifference, George snorted indignantly. “They’re boring.”
George never was much of one for words. Still, I was surprised by his assertion... it seemed to me that this rollicking, overgrown golf cart that we found ourselves on was filled to the brim with a multitude of fascinating folk.
- Ding! The Next Stop light blazed to life as the bus ground to a halt. -
Everything from riff raff to rank and file, all jammed together like store bought ballots heading for the polling booth. I couldn’t help but wonder what stories they had to tell, what made them tick. It was a mystery that I had to unravel, before it ate away at my brain and escaped through my ear, like some giant brain-eating space bug.
I jabbed my thumb in the direction of an older woman a few seats down. “How can they all be boring, George? What about her?”
“She’s crazy.” He shot back. “See,” he continued, “she’s talking to herself.”
Indeed, I could now see that this was the honest truth, now that the obvious had been pointed out to me. In fact, her monologue was progressing as a train wreck would (if a train wreck could speak and argue with itself)... it seems her conversation wasn’t going well, as she quickly switched between bawling her eyes out and chastising the heretofore invisible object of her ire. I tried looking away, really... but, you know.
This continued until her stop came up. I counted my blessings when she left, who knows how much longer I would’ve been stuck gazing into that black abyss. It was mesmerizing and sickening all at once.
Now that I had been saved from certain insanity, I once again turned my attention to the assembled throng.
- Ding! Another stop along the way came and went... -
More people crammed into the ever shrinking number of free seats, some of them taking up two seats, not even offering to give up their leg rest to the pregnant or elderly. I glared at the rat bastards, but my stink eye had little effect. I mused that a taser might be a more effective means of getting my point across.
Amongst the melee of scrambling bodies, I spotted a specimen of interest. Here was another poor sod, obviously deranged. Not only was he talking to himself, but he was using the foulest language as well.
“Nope... he’s sane.”
This comment caught me off guard... even after all these years, I’ve never gotten used to George’s ability to practically read my mind. I glanced at him questioningly, silently demanding the answer to my unspoken question.
George grinned and cast his gaze down at his feet, pretending as if he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Check his ear,” he chuckled, “he’s got a blue tooth on him.”
Well, that explained one part of it... “What about the blue language?”, I queried. Blue language on a blue tooth, I thought myself so clever.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he quipped, “he’s a douche bag. He’s just walking around and pretending that he’s talking to someone on the phone, just so he can insult the people around him without them realizing it.”
It always amazed me what an astute judge of character that George was.
- Ding! Next Stop!. –
Now, even more bourgeois lemmings piled into our overstuffed tin can on wheels. With the windows closed, I was starting to feel claustrophobic... I began to calculate how quickly the oxygen in the cabin would be depleted by the throngs of plebeians that surrounded me. With only minutes of precious air left before suffocation, it became obvious to me that the smelly and fat would have to be killed off first, in order to save the rest of us.
George shook his head at me, as if to say that I was over reacting. What does he know anyways?
- Ding! The Next Stop sign chirped away cheerfully, unconscious of our impending doom. -
Fortunately, a good number of the herd decided to vacate the bus here; I began to breathe a little easier. It was only then that I noticed the young woman eyeing me up. A million thoughts flew through my mind, from what my first line would be to what kind of cake I wanted at our wedding.
It never hurts to plan, right?
Noticing that she had my attention, she smiled at me kindly. “Is that seat taken?”
My heart skipped a beat, what would I tell her? I looked over at George, hoping for some sort of approval. He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, “Go for it. Maybe you’ll get laid for once.”
I turned my attention back to the lovely vision of beauty before me. “No, not at all.”
She grinned and plopped herself down unceremoniously into the empty seat. Turning to me once again, she grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. “Hi, my name’s Kate, nice to meet you. So, who were you talking to?”
1. No criticism. If you don't like creative writing, poetry, or someones submission.... remember what Thumpers mother had to say.
2. If the author asks for critiqueing, please post the critique in a positive fashion.
And now for the show...
Illusions
“George,” said I, “what do you make of these people around us?”
Scanning the bus with casual indifference, George snorted indignantly. “They’re boring.”
George never was much of one for words. Still, I was surprised by his assertion... it seemed to me that this rollicking, overgrown golf cart that we found ourselves on was filled to the brim with a multitude of fascinating folk.
- Ding! The Next Stop light blazed to life as the bus ground to a halt. -
Everything from riff raff to rank and file, all jammed together like store bought ballots heading for the polling booth. I couldn’t help but wonder what stories they had to tell, what made them tick. It was a mystery that I had to unravel, before it ate away at my brain and escaped through my ear, like some giant brain-eating space bug.
I jabbed my thumb in the direction of an older woman a few seats down. “How can they all be boring, George? What about her?”
“She’s crazy.” He shot back. “See,” he continued, “she’s talking to herself.”
Indeed, I could now see that this was the honest truth, now that the obvious had been pointed out to me. In fact, her monologue was progressing as a train wreck would (if a train wreck could speak and argue with itself)... it seems her conversation wasn’t going well, as she quickly switched between bawling her eyes out and chastising the heretofore invisible object of her ire. I tried looking away, really... but, you know.
This continued until her stop came up. I counted my blessings when she left, who knows how much longer I would’ve been stuck gazing into that black abyss. It was mesmerizing and sickening all at once.
Now that I had been saved from certain insanity, I once again turned my attention to the assembled throng.
- Ding! Another stop along the way came and went... -
More people crammed into the ever shrinking number of free seats, some of them taking up two seats, not even offering to give up their leg rest to the pregnant or elderly. I glared at the rat bastards, but my stink eye had little effect. I mused that a taser might be a more effective means of getting my point across.
Amongst the melee of scrambling bodies, I spotted a specimen of interest. Here was another poor sod, obviously deranged. Not only was he talking to himself, but he was using the foulest language as well.
“Nope... he’s sane.”
This comment caught me off guard... even after all these years, I’ve never gotten used to George’s ability to practically read my mind. I glanced at him questioningly, silently demanding the answer to my unspoken question.
George grinned and cast his gaze down at his feet, pretending as if he wasn’t looking at anything in particular. “Check his ear,” he chuckled, “he’s got a blue tooth on him.”
Well, that explained one part of it... “What about the blue language?”, I queried. Blue language on a blue tooth, I thought myself so clever.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he quipped, “he’s a douche bag. He’s just walking around and pretending that he’s talking to someone on the phone, just so he can insult the people around him without them realizing it.”
It always amazed me what an astute judge of character that George was.
- Ding! Next Stop!. –
Now, even more bourgeois lemmings piled into our overstuffed tin can on wheels. With the windows closed, I was starting to feel claustrophobic... I began to calculate how quickly the oxygen in the cabin would be depleted by the throngs of plebeians that surrounded me. With only minutes of precious air left before suffocation, it became obvious to me that the smelly and fat would have to be killed off first, in order to save the rest of us.
George shook his head at me, as if to say that I was over reacting. What does he know anyways?
- Ding! The Next Stop sign chirped away cheerfully, unconscious of our impending doom. -
Fortunately, a good number of the herd decided to vacate the bus here; I began to breathe a little easier. It was only then that I noticed the young woman eyeing me up. A million thoughts flew through my mind, from what my first line would be to what kind of cake I wanted at our wedding.
It never hurts to plan, right?
Noticing that she had my attention, she smiled at me kindly. “Is that seat taken?”
My heart skipped a beat, what would I tell her? I looked over at George, hoping for some sort of approval. He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally, “Go for it. Maybe you’ll get laid for once.”
I turned my attention back to the lovely vision of beauty before me. “No, not at all.”
She grinned and plopped herself down unceremoniously into the empty seat. Turning to me once again, she grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. “Hi, my name’s Kate, nice to meet you. So, who were you talking to?”
