One day a couple years ago, I was riding the TriMet bus, line 14, home from school. I was sitting towards the front of the bus, next to a rather small woman that I had seen on the bus before. All through the ride, she would half-say, half-hum, "Hmm!" in a very high pitch. My watchband had recently broken, so I was lacking a chronometer that day, and as we approached my stop, I asked,

"Could you give me the time?"

She responded,

"No, I'm sorry, I can't do that."

I smiled at her joke, but my smile faded as I realized she was serious.

"No, I can't do that do that. I just can't do that. I can't go around giving out that kind of information."

Luckily, she didn't seem overly offended, and we arrived quickly at my stop. I deemed it best not to ask questions of people who mumble to themselves.

Every morning, at a reasonable hour, I catch the bus to school.

No, wait, let's backtrack. I'm a computer prefect in the I.T. room at my school. I prowl around and press Alt-F4 when I see a flash game or similar being played by any of the hapless youngsters. This, understandably, earns me some deep, heartfelt grudges from the lower years of the school, and a member of such a year (henceforth known as 'Moron #1' in true mrpwase tradition) goes on my bus in the morning.

Let me tell you, this guy is annoying. Very annoying. My problem is that I seem to have some kind of aversion to hurting other people (physically, that is). I have nightmares about wrecking someone's face with a hammer or something. I get uncomfortable during that type of horror film. Overall, then, I'm not a very violent person. Whenever I get picked on, however, I get angry. I'm sure you have some idea of how clichèd teen anger/angst is, but...gah. It makes me mad.

So here I am, having caught the bus and put my headphones on, I realise with horror that Moron #1 has got on the bus. I didn't know he lived in this village. I start to sweat lightly with apprehension. Sure enough, he's seen me and has a stupid grin on his face. I brace for the worst. As if to confirm my fears, he turns to his friend and starts whispering - in plain view, don't you know.

Fortunately (or so I thought), I couldn't hear what he was saying since Rammstein were so thoughtfully riffing in my ears, but after a while the fact that I couldn't hear him started to worry me. My inner shallow attention whore wondered whether what he was saying would lower my social standing. My fists curl. I start to question myself - am I going to let this guy get away with this? Will I continue to sit (stand) here and take this blatant insult to my dignity?

I didn't so much have angels and devils on my shoulders as large angry robots inciting me on to acts of rampant slaughter. My knuckles pale. If I was an anime character, I would have had one massive sweat drop. I can't wait any more. My horror of violence wilted inside. I drew back my fist to strike, and...

The doors opened. The bus had arrived. Moron #1 had already left the bus. I composed myself and went on my way.