Saturday, October 28th, 8:00pm
Sally (and Passenger One and Passenger Two)
Sally sits at the window. Passengers One and Two take the seats in front of her.
Passenger One: (to Passenger Two) Which brings me to my next question: what are you going for Halloween as this year?
Passenger Two: I told you, I’m going as a sandwich. But I’d like to return to your first question …
Passenger One: What kind?
Passenger Two: What kind of what?
Passenger One: What kind of sandwich are you going as?
Passenger Two: (frowns) It doesn’t matter what kind of sandwich I’m going to go as, I want you to clarify what you meant by your first question.
Passenger One: I wouldn’t go as a peanut butter sandwich if I were you. You’ll have all the dogs in the neighbourhood chasing you.
Passenger Two: (turns and looks Passenger One directly in the eye) Your first question? What did you mean? Don’t make me … (closes eyes and exhales heavily) Okay. I’m not going to get angry …
Passenger One: Baloney.
Passenger Two: (yelling) I’m not! I’m not going to get angry!
Passenger One: Calm down. I meant you can go as a baloney sandwich.
Passenger Two: (still yelling) I’ll sandwich you in a minute!
Sally: (leans forward) If I may …
Passenger Two: (turns to her and yells) What do you want, witch?
Sally: (aghast) I was just going to suggest your friend answer your question. But if you don’t want my help …
Passenger Two: (calmly) Well, thank you. (turns to Passenger One) You see? Even strangers want to know what you meant by your first question.
Sally: Actually, I just want to know what the first question was.
Passenger Two: (to Sally, yelling again) Mind your own business, witch!
Passenger One: (to Passenger Two) Are you quite finished yet?
Passenger Two: (voice raised, anxious) It depends: what do you mean?
Sally: Ahhh …
Passenger Two: (turns) What are you “ahhh”ing about?
Sally: I assume that was the first question you’re referring to.
Passenger One: (turns to Sally) Yes, I’m thinking a Marmite sandwich might be best, too.
Andrea: Just when the bus is crowded it makes sense to leave any open seats available, doesn’t it?
Donald: I supp …
Andrea: I mean, it’s just common sense. It’s rude to keep two seats all to yourself when there’s so many people on the bus.
Donald: I was waiting for someone.
Andrea:(turns her head to the left and right) Who?
Donald: A … another man.
Andrea: A particular “other man”? Or just “another man”? Are you, like, disappointed that a woman sat beside you?
Donald: (looks her up and down) Yes. And in particular, you.
Andrea is speechless, mouth hanging open.
Donald: You’re rude and distasteful. I’d even go as far as to say that it’s women like you who make men like me—straight men, that is—wonder what it is we see in women at all.
Andrea: Well, I never!
Donald:(raises voice) Then it’s about damned time.
Donald steps over her and stands in the aisle.
Donald:(yelling) And for the record, I was waiting for a particular man, not just another man. One who’s much more tasty– (shakes his head) tasteful than you!
Saturday, October 21st, 7:00pm
Hillary (and Sean)(and Drommen)
Hillary sits at the window. Sean takes the seat beside her.
Sean: Hey.
Hillary stares out the window.
Sean: What the fuck’s up with you lately?
Hillary: Nothin’
Sean: You’re still waitin’ for that creepy guy?
Hillary: He’s not creepy. He’s nice.
Sean: What’s his name?
Hillary: Whatever. Jake. Whatever.
Sean: Yeah well, I heard he likes to expose himself on the bus.
Hillary:(turns to him) Who told you that?
Sean:(shrugs) Does it matter? The guy’s a creep.
Hillary rests her head against the window and looks out.
Sean: What do you say we just go get fucked up?
Hillary: Not interested.
Sean: Suit yourself. But don’t go whinin’ to me if he asks … Hey, isn’t that him? (points at Drommen, boarding the bus)
Hillary:(sits up straight) Yeah.
Sean:(mockingly) Should I leave the two of you alone? Maybe he’ll show you his wiener.
Hillary: Maybe you’re a wiener.
Drommen, carrying a grocery bag, walks up the aisle and stops in front of Sean.
Drommen:(to Hillary) Hi, Jessica.
Sean:(looks up at Drommen) Hey, asshole.
Drommen holding his hands behind his back, leans down and says something in Sean’s ear. Sean gets up and moves to the rear of the bus, and Drommen takes his seat.
Hillary: What did you say to him?
Drommen:(holds open his bag for her to look inside) I just offered him a sausage.
Thyme and time again, every week, it seems, I post a prompt with a bit of an idea in my head of what I’m going to write, but when I finally sit down, it’s something else. This week, I’m writing rather gingerly (in a way), because I’m trying to do it around all the other things I should be doing for tomorrow’s birthday party dinner.
I invited friends and family to cumin join us, and have already bought cards for myself and my mother to give to Alex (a cardamom), but I still have to go buy a few presents. And wrap them. Which of course will make them all parsley. (That made me laugh.)
Although he doesn’t eat (my son is tube-fed), Alex likes to choose what everyone else wants, and if it’s something that tastes good to him, he’ll have some. For tomorrow, he’s requested “big chicken,” which means a whole barbecued chicken from the grocery store. And a Spiderman cake for dessert, which I really should order soon. Mustardiness rule my life all the time? I need to follow my own sage advice: don’t procrastinate! I need to sumac myself upside the head with it once in a while.
Whatever happens, I’m sure tomorrow’s dinner will be peppered with love, free of a salt (ouch, that was a stretch), and anise day all around. In fact, it may just be a macing. And dinner itself is sure to be savory.
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