The Code

08Jun04
     There is this red headed woman who gets on the bus at the stop after mine. She wore jeans and a different shirt e3very day— and this awful yellow hat.
     She sat in the side seat by6 the door. In the morning she fell asleep about ten seconds after she got on and sat down. I had to get off before I got the chance to see if she woke up in time for her stop.
     She was there, too, when I got on the bus to go home. If she were to be asleep when I got on then i8 would wonder if she had had been on the bus all day sleeping.
     But on the way home she was very different. She had dirt all over her jeans and shirt, an the yellow hat looked even more filthy, if that was even possible. But it but it does her a real service by at least partially covering her dirty hair.
     This woman fascinated me. The idea of following her, missing my stop, getting off early. Then I would know where she worked and what she did, of course I would miss work and have to wind my way back home.
     There was one little problem area with this. There was an equally dirty guy who always sat across from her. Apparently, they both worke3d together.
     And they went home togeth3er. interesting…
     Did they wash each other off? That may be one of those things that should remain a mystery.
     They sat across from each other— in the aide side sweats. They pelted each other with single words, like this:
     ”Yes.”
     “Buzz.”
     “Screw.”
     “Creep.”
     “Yes.”
     “Two.”
     “Pizza.”
     “Macaroni.”
     “Elevator.”
     It was a weird thing that only they understood. But every day I sat there trying to crack the code, day after day. And I thought the spaces would help. There would say a word, and the other would say his word about a minute are two later. It was just weird.
     Then, I thought it was some sort of word association game. But you’re not supposed to wait that long between the words.
     But there was this one day that messed up all of my theories. This guy they both knew got on and plopped down next to me. And I mean plopped.
     “Hi Jack. Hi Steve.”
     “Hi Mars.” They said together
     “Going home?”
     “Yeah. Pizza night.” Together
     “Me and Ed?”
     “Sure.” Together
     “Mary and Jane?”
     “Yeah.” Together.
     Then they ll got off the bus.
The mystery expanded. I tried to put this hew information I just received into the fragmented puzzle of my mind where they resided. I was thinking about it so hard I nearly missed my stop.
     That night I dreamed about them I had figured out their cod and became one of them. I discovered that they were mind readers, which is why only a few words were said between them— to make sure they wouldn’t get caught at it. And I could read their minds, and every one else’s. it was fun and distracting.
     But then I woke up, and the day went on as usual. I didn’t read minds and I definitely didn’t solve this perplexing problem.

12 December, 2003
Another one from the many hours on the bus. Is there something about the bus that causes me to come up woth such stories?

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