Nice Old Lady

                                         Nice Old Lady

I was waiting for a bus in one of those rectangular glass open air shelters. I was doing this candle blowing vocal exercise. When you open your mouth and someone is nearby they usually feel it's in invitation to start talking to you. I was wearing headphones, though, a social signal that you are not to be talked to, or at least can't hear. 

This pock mark skinned old lady entered the shelter and sat down. She talked to me about how she was enjoying the last bit of sun. I responded politely taking off my headphones but looked away with my eyes to disengage. I re-headphoned. Yet she kept yapping. Didn't even offer me butterscotch candy from her purse's nether regions.

This other lady sat down on the bench inbetween us. Luckily she was there to take the brunt of the conversational assault from this nice old lady.

They began talking about various things. I started reading a book, and the old lady asked what I was reading. It was Jane Austen. The old lady asked the other lady if she read. She said yes.

"Do you read in Japanese?" Inferring she was Japanese by her appearance.

"I am not Japanese!"

"Are you Korean?"

"Yes! Korean!"

The nice old lady talked with the Korean lady about various things. Told her she remembered the Korean war. The old lady kept forgetting and mentioning Japan, presumably thinking the other lady was Japanese again.

The nice old lady asked me "Is it coming?"

"I can't see it."

The bus trotted on down a few minutes later.

We got on and the ladies continued their conversation.

The bus was moving in a blaze. Driving jobs must be infuriating, and my intuition senses sometimes the drivers gotta go fast to release their fury.

We came near the nice old lady's stop, and of course she's standing up before the bus comes to a halt, and not holding onto anything, so she's fumbling all over the place like an arthritic Jerry Lewis and the Korean lady is catching her.

She made it off the bus, and said her goodbyes to her pal nouvelle.

When she got off the bus she was ripped apart limp by limp by a roving pack of wolves that is common to these large urban centers. As the bus pulled away one of the wolves turned, looked at me grinning menacingly with a blood-stained smirk and mouthed "she's magically delicious!" The bus made that engine farting noise and departed. Tundra howls in the distant darkness.

It was a fun day for the nice old lady.