nanowrimo08.3

3.

“That’s it! I’ll just walk to work! Can’t rely on anything anymore!” yelled the twenty-ish, ruggedly handome, angry man. He was tall and lanky with blondish red hair that looked like it had not seen a comb in over eight weeks. He definately skipped the razor the past few days. But then again, it could just be his “look.” A look that is always bothered the elder of out time. Not sure why though, considering when the “older” were young long hair and oily ripped jeans were in. Why not have uncombed hair. It doesn’t necessarliy mean that by sporting the nonbrushed hair is trying to imply a certain lazy or nonhygenic type of person. No, no, no. It says that you are hip, that you are trendy, that you have a sense of style….Right?

“Sorry Norman,” he said to the driver. “I am already late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I understand, wouldn’t want the ladies to not see their favorite guy in the office,” replied Norman, “After all I know my day would be miserable if I didn’t get to see your pretty face,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.

“Oh shut it. But hey, I wouldn’t want the ladies to be sad. Ladies should never be sad! C-ya.”

Just as Norman began to reach for the radio to call in again he saw the “rescue” city bus driving towards him. The bus slowly pulled to a stop and Norman told the passengers to grab their belongings and switch to the other bus. Norman would finish the route and the driver of the “rescue” bus would wait for a mechanic to come work on his bus. He never thought that this was a good plan that the city had come up with but mostly because he had grown accustom to his #7 bus. He had been driving the #7 bus and the same route for over five years now and the broken in seat and strange smell that had accumulated over the years from spilled drinks and well, smelly people felt like home. Yeah the #7 will be temporarely entered into the digital readout display on the back of the “rescue” bus, but the chewed up yucky gum wouldn’t be behind seat 3a and the fifth window towards the back wouldn’t be slightly cracked open refusing to go all the way up. Sigh. He exchanged a few words with the other driver and quickly got behind the wheel of the “it-will-just-have-to-do-til-i-get-my-REAL-#7″ bus back.