I had no car today. And so at 4.10pm I decided to close shop and hitch a ride on a bus. I’ve not been on a bus for some time now and felt an urge of excitement in my lower regions as I headed towards a bus stop. According to my in depth research, to reach Henley upon Thames one should hail a bus to Friar Street where one dismounts and awaits the number 800 to High Wycombe, via Henley upon Thames. What fun this would be I chuckled as I headed to the bus stop. How wrong was I?
The bus stop was outside the Royal Berkshire hospital off London Road. I approached with caution as I noticed a couple of elderly men with sticks arguing with each other. Further down the pavement a young girl with a brace of kids, a bun perched on her head, tattoos across her cleavage and a stud so big in her tongue she sounded deaf, was screaming obscenities at her children. A woman in her dressing gown and a mobile drip was lighting a fag. An Indian man sat in the bus stop. He had unfortunate long goofy teeth and reminded me of a bottle opener. Whilst he talked he dribbled. It was fascinating to watch but I realised it was not Victorian times, and I was not in an asylum. I sat down and played solitaire waiting for my bus. Moments later the bus arrived. I paid my £1.20 and made my way to a seat by the window.
I walked to my seat and could feel a bus full of beady eyes upon me. I sucked my extra strong mint and sat down. As I breathed in, relieved I was on the bus, the stench of body odour hit me like a sledge hammer. I could not work out where it came from but it was strong, it was putrid, and it was making its way up my nostrils. I placed my hand over my nose but the smell infiltrated my nostrils and before long I felt the urge to vomit on the head of the woman seated in front of me. I found her hair rather upsetting. But that aside I managed to contain my vomit and people watch. My people watching was abruptly stopped when a woman sat beside me and opened a packet of cheese and onion crisps. I looked at her for a second and we caught each other’s eye. I smiled sickly. As did she. I could see the damp crisps stuck to the front of her teeth and the subtle smell of onions on her breath and felt the urge to throw again. I turned away quickly and stared out of the window.
The bus stops were lined up near the back of M&S and there was hundreds of them. I had no idea which bus stop was mine, and the buses that did stop all went to ruddy Calcot! Ruddy Calcot, where the feck is ruddy Calcot? There was no number 800 to be seen. I was told I should walk to the Apex Plaza which is where the 800 bus stops. I power walked around the corner and as I tried to find my phone in my deep bag I tripped and landed on my hands and knees. Fuck I hissed. I did an Exorcist 360 of the head, made sure nobody saw me fall, wiped myself down and continued my journey.
I found the bus stop outside the Plaza. I sat upon a wall away from the bus stop and prayed for a number 800 to take me home. Or for somebody I may know to drive past and see me, and stop, and take me home. Alas none of the above happened. I thought about grabbing a taxi, but decided to give it another few minutes. Just in case the bus arrived.
Opposite where I sat was the Corn Exchange. Two drunken men were seated outside staring at us waiting for our buses and shouting abuse. I tried not to stare and instead thought about my recent trip to Athens with my friends Lou, Sue and Rachel. I was brought back to reality when a young man arrived and stood to my right. I was just thinking to myself how nice he looked in his suit when he started to make the most disgusting gurgling noises as he tried to clear his throat. He cared not for me perched beside him on the wall but continued to gurgle and spit green phlegm onto the pavement in front of me. I felt a gag but held it back. Bus after ruddy fecking bus stopped and moved on. Not one number 800 bus to be seen. By now it was gone 5.20 and I was seriously pissed off. A non-English woman had appeared to my left and kept catching my eye and grinning at me. A bus would stop and go and she would still be standing there, looking at me. I was beginning to feel a little worried when all of a sudden I saw the bus – on the other side of the ruddy road! I cursed and quickly grabbed my bag and legged it over the road. But I was too late, the bus moved on. The two drunken men sitting outside of the Corn Exchange were laughing. And the strange woman across the road was waving at me. I felt the urge to deck her. I decided this was no adventure, I was going to grab a taxi. But then the bus pulled up on the other side of the road, where I had been waiting! I sprinted over the road, passed the weirdo woman and onto the bus. Full of excitement a lady dribble popped out and caught me by surprise.
I had no change. I had no idea how much the journey would cost and I had no idea the driver was deaf and dumb. But he was. I tapped on his window and said I wanted a single to Henley on Thames. He said something back that I could not decipher. I said again I would like a single ticket to HENLEY ON THAMES. He answered something I could not decipher. I started to ask again but he pointed to a price and I understood this to be £4.70. I paid and sat as close to the door as possible.
I felt her eyes upon me as I walked to my seat. She had short red hair and bulbous eyes that did not move from me. The bus started to move and still she stared at me. Clearly she was a nutter. And she was on my ruddy bus. This was not a good start to my journey. I noticed whenever somebody got on or off the bus she would say hello or goodbye. But would then return to stare at me in a very sinister way. I slowed pulled out my packet of mints and placed one in my mouth. I could not outstare her so instead started to play candy crush.
The bus pulled out and I had hoped for a quick sprint down the Henley Road and then home. But no, it turned towards Caversham and stopped every 5 minutes. That woman was still looking at me and the stop start motion of the bus was beginning to make me queasy again. It reminded me a little of Carolyn’s driving. As the bus drove through Caversham and past the Standard Tandoori I stared out of my window and was amazed to see me old mate Sarah Caffrey in a car just driving out of her road. I slapped my hand on the window of the bus hoping she would see me and mouthed GET ME OFF!! But she did not see me. I thought about jumping off at the next stop in the hope she would be behind us and she could drive me home, but I didn’t risk it. I continued candy crush. The nutter had moved her gaze elsewhere and I began to relax a little. Near Binfield Heath she got off. As she walked passed my window I gave her my most horrid glare and then urged the driver to legit!
A short haired man in a track suit and stinking of Joop sat next door to me. My nostrils moved as I tried not to sneeze. I held it in, but then suddenly the sneeze appeared and I lost my mint onto the floor. The man next to me grinned as I kicked the mint under the seat in front of me. I returned to my phone and ignored him.
This journey was taking forever. We eventually drove through Shiplake and finally the Reading Road. As we approached the Tesco roundabout I heard a little buzzer and then a sign to say the bus was stopping. And the bus did stop. I stood up and asked the driver if the bus stopped further along the reading road. He grunted in a deaf kind of way. I sat again and an old man asked me if he should press the buzzer. Having no idea what he was talking about I said yes. The bus travelled another 100 yards and then stopped. All eyes were upon me. I had no choice but to get off the bus even though it was a good walk back to my house. I thanked the driver. And the old man. I disembarked.
It was 6.15pm. I had been on buses for over 2 hours. I’d eaten a whole packet of extra strong mints. My head ached and I the smell of cheese and onion was embedded in my nostrils. I tried hard not to grab my front bottom as the urge to pee my pants was strong.
At 6.28 I put the key in the keyhole. Misty my faithful yet crusty cat came to greet me. With her tail in the air she rubbed her bottom along my ankles and purred loudly. I kicked her off and found the girls in the kitchen. They were high on chocolate and dancing on chairs. I fell onto the sofa and thanked the almighty I had made it home. In one piece.
As I sipped my claret I relayed my traumatic journey home to Carolyn. She scoffed at my dilemma and suggested I was a ponce. Misty once again found me and jumped onto my belly. My stroking her helped me to unwind a little and before long I was on my second glass having forgotten my journey.
After an evening of stroking my pussy and drinking wine I decided to hit the deck. I was shattered. I was traumatised. I felt violated and a little cruel about giggling at the Indian bottle opener. I felt the need to sneeze and itched my nostril. It was then I realised I had cat shit on my hands.
Misty you little fucker!!
myfamilyandothermillers 