The Nerd Way Home
October 21/05


Please don’t be on the bus this afternoon. It’s not that I hate you or anything, just not this afternoon, okay? Brain vibes. I am sending you brain vibes. Warding you off. Not that you’re a plague or anything. But I’ve got good music, that Boy with the Endearing Hair is sitting in front of me, and I’m feeling introspective.

This kind of happens a lot. When I’ll sit in my little bus seat with the hump and freak out the bus driver because I keep looking at the stairs to see if you come a-hopping. Well, where the stairs should be. I can’t really see them right now, parking myself in the seat with the hump.

People have something against my seat. But why? It has a built in foot rest. It makes it acceptable to have a terrible, slouching posture. Perfect for inwardly aww-ing at the Boy with the Endearing Hair. I’ll just call him Endear-o Boy. Ideal for scrunching up into the teeniest position possible.

I swear this seat isn’t as wide as the rest of the bus seats. I feel like a giant when I sit here. That’s right, freshman boy with red hair who is sitting beside me. Fresh-o Boy. I am a giant. You are not. I could crush you, if I wanted too. But I’m gentle folk. Just don’t look at my seat. I know you want this seat. Because this is a great seat.

Good things, good things. The bus is started and my chauffeur has a giddy up look about him. He’s sporting some aviators today. And I wonder what it must be like to be a teacher/bus driver/janitor/etc at a high school. Observing all these idiot kids and soaking up their pseudo-culture. Perchance, occasionally, the teacher/bus driver/janitor/etc’s of the post-elementary world want to feel in vogue. And this is why they start wearing ginormous glasses. Go ahead, says I. Aren’t you lucky I approve?



Hooray Endear-o Boy! Good for you bus driver! Celebratory tap-tap with the foot, seat hump! We’ve got movement of the forward kind. Going ahead. Progressing. Without a seat buddy. Without a buddy in my seat with the hump.
It’s come to my attention that maybe, possibly, certainly my saying hump is getting overwhelming. It’s repetitive and there’s also some innuendo stirring up. What would Bus Driver think of me if he heard my thoughts, and took notice of the fact that “hump” was coming up an awful lot? Would he think I was a dirty hooligan? I could be just that. So perhaps I shouldn’t fight it? However, just in case he is hearing my thoughts, I’ll think of a new way to describe the wheel bump. Don’t want to give the old, mind-reading man a fright. Wheel bump. Not too terrible.

Wheel bump; wheel bulge; wheel lump; wheel pouch; wheel protrusion.

Satisfactory. S, in report card form. Maybe an N, needs improvement. Let’s embrace the slightly dirty and familiar, hmm? Wheel hump it is.

People have too many stigmatisms. There’s a stigmatism about my seat with the lump. (Sorry, thought I’d give it a shot. Yay or Nay?) There’s a stigmatism about the type of vehicle my little bench is bolted and welded to. Stigmatism is: it’s not cool. Not cool? Loser Cruiser, they say? I suppose choosing not to spew more gas then is necessary into the atmosphere is pretty lame. And I guess not wanting to buy a car just so I can peel out of the parking lot with a muffler that sounds like a pissed off jumble of bumble bees is a faux pas. Je suis une lame, faux pas to le max. Je suis a-ok avec ca.

Although, the real ones committing a no-no here are those stigmatic persons. Clearly, clearly, this is not a Loser Cruiser, if Archie Andrews himself is convinced of its merits. You haven’t read that one? Faux pas.

Goodbye, Endear-o Boy. No, it appears he is too focused on walking in those chubby little shoes of his to look up today. Have a good weekend, all right? No drinking, no canoodling.

Anti-salutations, Bus Driver, Blonde Female, Scruffy Boy. You have a nice Satunday too. Seat Buddy, I don’t know where you are, but I’m sorry about sending those warding vibes

It was real quiet in here.