The Rowdy Passengers



This will be my third time writing this entry after being accidentally deleted the first and second time. Argh!



I waited at the bus stop patiently for my bus to arrive. I glanced at the other passengers that will be boarding the same bus as me. I took out my wallet from my pocket as the bus approached nearer.



I sat down and pressed the play button on my discman. I am able to listen to Ayumi Hamasaki 2nd latest album, Carol, in the bus peacefully and without any interruption.



I closed my eyes and hummed softly the lyrics to myself.



HONK!



Abruptly, I opened my eyes and realized that the bus was thrusting full speed even though it was red light. I shook my head in displeased. What a reckless bus driver he was. I wasn't impressed at all.



Apparently, a van which was making a left turn earlier on nearly collided with the bus that I was on. What a near death experience I must say. I heaved a hugh sigh of relieve.



I continued listening to my song when I heard the bus driver yelling and shouting vulgarities. His loud husky voice pierced Ayumi's voice. My eyes were wide open.



I decided to turn the volume to the maximum but somehow it did not work. Strange enough, I heard another voice coming from behind me.



A Indian lady who was listening to her walkman was singing loudly. With those two voices combined, they were somewhat near to me. I rolled my eyes.



Help me please!



The bus stopped to ferry more passengers. A little girl sat next to me.



The little girl looked up at me. Most people woudln't have called her pretty. They wouldn't seen past the things that made her look different.



But she looked lovely to me. The eyes behind her glasses were big, and fringed with long black lashes. Her hair, black and straight, was tied in two bunches on each side of her head, and it looked as soft as feathers.



She smiled when she saw me looking at her, and leaning forward in her pushchair, she flapped her hand in my direction and blew a big bubble out of her mouth.



If I was not wrong, her age would be around five years old. She was the sweetest girl I'd seen. Suddenly, she started crying.



Her loud and sharp cries pierced through the air, hurting my eardrums. I could stand no more. I turned to her with my hand swinging to her face in slow motion.



PIAK!



I slapped her brutally. She stopped crying and glared at me. She growled and climbed over me. She punched me several times in my face. Perfection was all over for me.



I grabbed her by the collarbone and thrust her into the air before slamming her to the glass window.



She was bleeding profusely. She dismissed her pain with hysterical laughters. I was taken aback. I was traumatized with her behavior.



I stood up and shouted, shut up everyone! Shut up!



And then I snapped from my reverie. I pressed the buzzer and alighted to wait for the next bus.



Signing Off,

Shah Rizal Isaac