The following is based on actual events. Although some of this is completely made up, unfortunately, a lot of it isn't. Some of the verbal exchange is actually written as close to verbatim as possible. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
ACT I , SCENE 1
We find Ms. Smith standing on the street corner across from her work place, patiently waiting for her evening bus ride home. After a while, she pulls out her cell phone to check on the time and realizes that her ride is late. Extremely late. Ms. Smith starts to fidget, shifting her balance from foot to foot and occasionally looking back to see if there's any sign of a bus heading her direction. Another minute passes. And another. Her other companions who are also waiting for the same bus decide to each pull out another cigarette, figuring that they still have enough time on their hands to get in another drag. Finally, as Ms. Smith concludes that she would be better off going back inside to cool off and catch the next bus (she knows some of her future already) for a safer, calmer ride, she hears the rumbling of the metro bus, the squeaking brakes, and sees her ride pull up to the stop. Ms. Smith, as calmly as possible, steps inside and pulls out her bus fare ticket. She slides it into the meter and wishes that all will hopefully go well. The meter spits out the ticket, calling it 'misread', refusing to deduct any amount from the remaining $14 left on the card. The driver, an older woman with long white hair, glasses as thick as her obvious southern accent, watches this event and says:
"Did you take that ticket in to the metro office?"
"No, I didn't know I had to do that"
"The next time the meter declines that ticket, I'm not going to let you on this bus"
"Fine. Though this is your fault.
"Why?"
"This ticket was working perfectly until I got on your route home yesterday evening. When I put the ticket into the slot, your meter sucked it up, paused, spit it out and sucked it up again. Ever since last night, I can't get this ticket to work properly."
"Well, it's not my fault"
"Yes, it is."
"You don't have to get angry with me, I didn't do anything."
"I'm not even close to angry, don't put emotions into my head. You are telling me that I have to take this ticket into a metro transit office because your meter screwed it up? What time does the office downtown open?"
"8 AM"
"I have to be here at 7:30 in the morning. What time does it close?
"5 PM"
"I can't leave work early. This bus doesn't even pick me up until quarter after five. And I know the office isn't open on the weekends, right?"
"That is correct."
"So I have to waste this ticket I bought for $20 that still has $14 left on it and buy another one? Seems like a good scam to me."
"You don't have to get upset."
" I'm not upset, drive your freaking bus home. Just don't kill me while doing it."
"SIT DOWN!"
"Whatever. You better watch your back. I have an exotic spiky fruit I'm going to chuck at your head when you least expect it."
SCENE TWO WILL BE POSTED TOMORROW. FEEL FREE TO INSERT ANY CREATIVE IDEAS AS TO WHERE THIS STORY WILL END UP. I WILL, HOWEVER, STILL INSERT SOME ACTUAL EVENTS (ALTHOUGH NAMES AND PLACES WILL BE CHANGED) TO SHOW THE RIDICULOUSNESS OF MY DAILY ROUTE HOME. IF YOU ARE CONFUSED AS TO WHY THIS SUBJECT IS BEING DISCUSSED, PLEASE REFER TO THE PREVIOUS POST ENTITLED, "OTTO, PLEASE". THANK YOU.
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