Sight could be affected. My Sight was an honest broker, something I could totally rely on. How was I going to filter out what was bogus? Was I going to be jumping at shadows?
Could I…hurt someone by accident?
I kicked the asphalt in frustration. I felt naked. Exposed.
As I was mulling over options, the LCN Line’s departure announcement sounded. I sagged. I would have to deal with this mess later, the stragglers where already putting out their cigarettes and queuing to get on board. I walked over and got in the line. Once onboard, I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with the girl next to me. She had given me the Raised Eyebrow. That was the girl-sign for excommunication. I pretended to show interest in the television show in front of me. It was a documentary about a man trying to etch his name into the side of a mountain with dynamite.
I clenched my teeth. Tonight was going to be a challenge.
+
The bus kicked into gear and lumbered off down the road.
Only a few minutes passed before the TV screen gave me a splitting headache.
How can they do it? I wondered. How can they keep watching this thing?
Maybe I needed TV specific glasses or something.
I glanced over to find my seatmate rooting through her backpack. She pulled out two large silver juice pouches and frowned.
I swallowed. Even her frown was cute. The proximity of the attractive female was making me nervous. I wasn’t accustomed to encountering mysterious members of the opposite sex, especially ones with lips…I shook my head. Like a repenting priest, I retreated to ritual. Grabbed my thermos, I poured out some piping hot coffee and stared into its manly darkness. The smell alone made me feel better.
Meanwhile, my new neighbor found the Chapstick she was searching for and tossed the rest of her stuff back into her bag. I raised an eyebrow. What is it with girls and Chapstick, anyway? They’d slaughter the whole world for one cylinder of lip balm.
I fought the mighty urge to watch her put it on. My libido had just burst out of the closet and was tripping over the furniture yelling, “Who? What? Where?” (Please excuse him. He doesn’t get out much.) I was just getting my loins back under control when she upped the ante. With a yawn, she stretched her arms above her head. Despite the baggy clothing’s best efforts, the maneuver revealed enough to wreck me. I spilled my cup of coffee straight onto my crotch. Superior heat retention has its drawbacks. I grimaced as the scalding liquid reached ground zero, but as I did my best to angle my jeans away from the Resnick family’s last hope, my seatmate decided to dispose of her hoodie.
I juggled two pressing needs:
1) Protect the nethers.
2) Leer.
I had to commend my libido’s rampant disregard for its own survival. Like a kamikaze pilot, it was dead set on going out in a blaze of glory. And what a blaze it was: the hoodie caught on the girl’s head, and she struggled to pull it off. Underneath, she was only wearing a simple black tank top. Her flat belly contrasted sharply with two very strong arguments for the superiority of the B-cup.
No bra, either…
My mouth gaped. Riding the bus was amazing.
While I was engaged in less than gentlemanly thoughts, the battle of head vs. hoodie entering its final, desperate stage. With a grunt, my seatmate popped her head free—and delivered a well-deserved elbow to my forehead.
An ocean of stars filled my vision as my head cracked back. The chick had packed a wallop. I would have landed in the aisle if my spine didn’t catch the armrest first. Regaining my balance, I held onto my wobbly head with my hands. I was afraid it my fall off. “Wow,” I slurred. “You’ve got skills.”
The girl was staring at me wide-eyed with her sweater still balled in her hands. “Oh, splint—I mean, apologies, did I strike your head?” Her voice was a dulcet purr.
Pretty. I smiled back stupidly.
“ Can you hear me?” She waved her hands in front of my
Could I…hurt someone by accident?
I kicked the asphalt in frustration. I felt naked. Exposed.
As I was mulling over options, the LCN Line’s departure announcement sounded. I sagged. I would have to deal with this mess later, the stragglers where already putting out their cigarettes and queuing to get on board. I walked over and got in the line. Once onboard, I couldn’t bear to make eye contact with the girl next to me. She had given me the Raised Eyebrow. That was the girl-sign for excommunication. I pretended to show interest in the television show in front of me. It was a documentary about a man trying to etch his name into the side of a mountain with dynamite.
I clenched my teeth. Tonight was going to be a challenge.
+
The bus kicked into gear and lumbered off down the road.
Only a few minutes passed before the TV screen gave me a splitting headache.
How can they do it? I wondered. How can they keep watching this thing?
Maybe I needed TV specific glasses or something.
I glanced over to find my seatmate rooting through her backpack. She pulled out two large silver juice pouches and frowned.
I swallowed. Even her frown was cute. The proximity of the attractive female was making me nervous. I wasn’t accustomed to encountering mysterious members of the opposite sex, especially ones with lips…I shook my head. Like a repenting priest, I retreated to ritual. Grabbed my thermos, I poured out some piping hot coffee and stared into its manly darkness. The smell alone made me feel better.
Meanwhile, my new neighbor found the Chapstick she was searching for and tossed the rest of her stuff back into her bag. I raised an eyebrow. What is it with girls and Chapstick, anyway? They’d slaughter the whole world for one cylinder of lip balm.
I fought the mighty urge to watch her put it on. My libido had just burst out of the closet and was tripping over the furniture yelling, “Who? What? Where?” (Please excuse him. He doesn’t get out much.) I was just getting my loins back under control when she upped the ante. With a yawn, she stretched her arms above her head. Despite the baggy clothing’s best efforts, the maneuver revealed enough to wreck me. I spilled my cup of coffee straight onto my crotch. Superior heat retention has its drawbacks. I grimaced as the scalding liquid reached ground zero, but as I did my best to angle my jeans away from the Resnick family’s last hope, my seatmate decided to dispose of her hoodie.
I juggled two pressing needs:
1) Protect the nethers.
2) Leer.
I had to commend my libido’s rampant disregard for its own survival. Like a kamikaze pilot, it was dead set on going out in a blaze of glory. And what a blaze it was: the hoodie caught on the girl’s head, and she struggled to pull it off. Underneath, she was only wearing a simple black tank top. Her flat belly contrasted sharply with two very strong arguments for the superiority of the B-cup.
No bra, either…
My mouth gaped. Riding the bus was amazing.
While I was engaged in less than gentlemanly thoughts, the battle of head vs. hoodie entering its final, desperate stage. With a grunt, my seatmate popped her head free—and delivered a well-deserved elbow to my forehead.
An ocean of stars filled my vision as my head cracked back. The chick had packed a wallop. I would have landed in the aisle if my spine didn’t catch the armrest first. Regaining my balance, I held onto my wobbly head with my hands. I was afraid it my fall off. “Wow,” I slurred. “You’ve got skills.”
The girl was staring at me wide-eyed with her sweater still balled in her hands. “Oh, splint—I mean, apologies, did I strike your head?” Her voice was a dulcet purr.
Pretty. I smiled back stupidly.
“ Can you hear me?” She waved her hands in front of my
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