Bus Report #354
Last night on the 22 Fillmore:
At Church Street, a teenage boy got on and immediately started yelling into his phone.
"I saw your cousin wearing my blue pants," he shouted. "Them blue pants I left at your house! And they had a hole in them! Your &*^%% cousin ripped a hole in my *^%$#@ pants! I want those pants back, no way your cousin should be wearing them!"
A guy was standing in front of me and we exchanged amused glances.
The boy kept going. "I was out and I saw your cousin in my $&(*&@# pants! I don't - I mean, even if he's not your cousin he's still got my &*^%$#@? Pants! Hell no, man, you are a @#$%&$, a real *&^$%##@ @#$%&$! I'm gonna kill you if I don't get my pants back!"
At this point, the majority of us were sneaking glances at this kid, wondering when his head was going to explode or when he was going to get off the bus, whichever happened first.
He got off the phone and sat down. From my seat (and through headphones) I could hear him talking about the pants with his friend.
At Haight and Fillmore the boy got on his phone again.
For some reason the friend he'd been yelling at picked up his phone, and the saga of the torn, stolen, cousin-worn blue pants continued.
He was so angry he almost missed his stop.
It was wacky.
At Church Street, a teenage boy got on and immediately started yelling into his phone.
"I saw your cousin wearing my blue pants," he shouted. "Them blue pants I left at your house! And they had a hole in them! Your &*^%% cousin ripped a hole in my *^%$#@ pants! I want those pants back, no way your cousin should be wearing them!"
A guy was standing in front of me and we exchanged amused glances.
The boy kept going. "I was out and I saw your cousin in my $&(*&@# pants! I don't - I mean, even if he's not your cousin he's still got my &*^%$#@? Pants! Hell no, man, you are a @#$%&$, a real *&^$%##@ @#$%&$! I'm gonna kill you if I don't get my pants back!"
At this point, the majority of us were sneaking glances at this kid, wondering when his head was going to explode or when he was going to get off the bus, whichever happened first.
He got off the phone and sat down. From my seat (and through headphones) I could hear him talking about the pants with his friend.
At Haight and Fillmore the boy got on his phone again.
For some reason the friend he'd been yelling at picked up his phone, and the saga of the torn, stolen, cousin-worn blue pants continued.
He was so angry he almost missed his stop.
It was wacky.
posted by Rachel at 3:03 PM
1 Comments:
hay that's funny... i lent some wacky teenager MY pants a while ago and never got them back. he has my $@&! pants!!!
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