Every week, things get more hectic. So now I'm taking the time to chill out and get centered. I've not written one thing down for the last 3 weeks at least, so it's too bad. I've felt sorry for myself because I haven't been able to surround myself with my friends as much as I'd like, as they've been away - some of the really bad ones leaving the country completely (you know who you are). So you know what? I'm going to think about the funny things that have happened lately and write them out for you. Like the time I felt bad and went back outside to help a homeless lady with her bags. Settle in, kids.
This lady looked friendly enough. She smiled and laughed with the bus driver when he made a little joke about her 'moving house or somethin' as she clumsily plonked down her six or so bags in the aisle of the bus. She didn't look dodgy, she looked quite well done - young and all made up. But I recognised her as the lady who is sometimes sleeping in the laundromat down near the station when I go in the mornings to catch my train. I feel a pang of sadness every time... and I always spend the time waiting for my train trying to think of a way to help her, or if she even needs help at all. I can't help myself - I wonder for ages.
So when she got off the bus at the top of the hill - my stop, out the front of my house - and began to pull all her bags out and put them on the ground, I felt guilty as I walked up the driveway towards my warm house, where I have warm pyjams and a warm, before bed hot chocolate waiting for me. I went inside and put my own bags down in my room, and before I even knew what I was doing I found myself walking back out the front to ask her if she needed a hand with her luggage.
Poor nieve little innocent me. I should have considered the fact that, for all she knew, I could have been a ring-in for the corrupt police officers / stalker gang / f**king nutcases who would love her to consider herself absolutely and certainly insane, and who constantly know where she is because they've put a f**king bug in one of her bags (this comment purposefully directed at said bags) and they've got all sorts of ways of keeping tabs on her - sneaky dirty tunnels right underneath the ground we were standing on - if I wanted a particular example. Who did she think these people were? Oh I don't know - people with AIDS or cancer who were angry at the world and didn't want her to live happily ever after, whereupon they made it their sole purpose in life to make her own a complete and utter fobbed out misery. I was quite probably recruited by these dirty mongers (as innocently sweet as I appeared) to help damage her life even further by offering to assist her, whilst finding out every little detail I could about her life so I could report directly back to my big evil CIA boss. I coughed because of my cold and the woman thought I was signalling to secret corrupt police officers who were most likely eagerly listening in on our conversation via the wires in my pocket. Mhmm.
Oh yes. This went on for at least one half hour... and I'm quite certain she stated in there somewhere that she also housed spiritual powers and the ability to communicate with angels. Did I mention that?
I, for one, began to wonder if the tirade was ever going to end. I was half leaning, half sitting on the neighbour's fence and my bottom was beginning to go numb with the cold. However, by this time I had grown much too frightened to walk back inside during her damaging and rather offensive declination of my good intentions, lest she become aware of my address and return for revenge once she had found and disposed of the bug she suspected was in her bags. Thank my lucky stars then, that God must have been listening to me (as opposed to the crazy lady), for a short time later, big, cold raindrops began to fall and it seemingly occurred to her that she'd best be on her way. She gathered up her bags and off she went, leaving me to dash back inside to my utmost relief. I had to call my mother right away as a means to sooth my frazzled countenance and become assured again that the woman was not going return for my head.
The next morning, there she was again in the laundromat, with her bags around her and her mobile phone plugged in. I've never skipped past so quickly in my life. I'm going to have to find a new secret path to the station, I think.
This lady looked friendly enough. She smiled and laughed with the bus driver when he made a little joke about her 'moving house or somethin' as she clumsily plonked down her six or so bags in the aisle of the bus. She didn't look dodgy, she looked quite well done - young and all made up. But I recognised her as the lady who is sometimes sleeping in the laundromat down near the station when I go in the mornings to catch my train. I feel a pang of sadness every time... and I always spend the time waiting for my train trying to think of a way to help her, or if she even needs help at all. I can't help myself - I wonder for ages.
So when she got off the bus at the top of the hill - my stop, out the front of my house - and began to pull all her bags out and put them on the ground, I felt guilty as I walked up the driveway towards my warm house, where I have warm pyjams and a warm, before bed hot chocolate waiting for me. I went inside and put my own bags down in my room, and before I even knew what I was doing I found myself walking back out the front to ask her if she needed a hand with her luggage.
Poor nieve little innocent me. I should have considered the fact that, for all she knew, I could have been a ring-in for the corrupt police officers / stalker gang / f**king nutcases who would love her to consider herself absolutely and certainly insane, and who constantly know where she is because they've put a f**king bug in one of her bags (this comment purposefully directed at said bags) and they've got all sorts of ways of keeping tabs on her - sneaky dirty tunnels right underneath the ground we were standing on - if I wanted a particular example. Who did she think these people were? Oh I don't know - people with AIDS or cancer who were angry at the world and didn't want her to live happily ever after, whereupon they made it their sole purpose in life to make her own a complete and utter fobbed out misery. I was quite probably recruited by these dirty mongers (as innocently sweet as I appeared) to help damage her life even further by offering to assist her, whilst finding out every little detail I could about her life so I could report directly back to my big evil CIA boss. I coughed because of my cold and the woman thought I was signalling to secret corrupt police officers who were most likely eagerly listening in on our conversation via the wires in my pocket. Mhmm.
Oh yes. This went on for at least one half hour... and I'm quite certain she stated in there somewhere that she also housed spiritual powers and the ability to communicate with angels. Did I mention that?
I, for one, began to wonder if the tirade was ever going to end. I was half leaning, half sitting on the neighbour's fence and my bottom was beginning to go numb with the cold. However, by this time I had grown much too frightened to walk back inside during her damaging and rather offensive declination of my good intentions, lest she become aware of my address and return for revenge once she had found and disposed of the bug she suspected was in her bags. Thank my lucky stars then, that God must have been listening to me (as opposed to the crazy lady), for a short time later, big, cold raindrops began to fall and it seemingly occurred to her that she'd best be on her way. She gathered up her bags and off she went, leaving me to dash back inside to my utmost relief. I had to call my mother right away as a means to sooth my frazzled countenance and become assured again that the woman was not going return for my head.
The next morning, there she was again in the laundromat, with her bags around her and her mobile phone plugged in. I've never skipped past so quickly in my life. I'm going to have to find a new secret path to the station, I think.
geoffrey the trolley mans sister.
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