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The 101

Shite. Is there any other word for it? Pishing it doon, get soaked by some prick in a shitey BMW and a midlife crisis and within pitting distance of the open air pish house they call a bus shelter. My intended destination.

Lucky me. Can’t drive so here I am. The dirty polythene shelter, despite the obvious smell of ammonia, is keeping me somewhat dry at least. Might as well check the timetable I guess. Not that I actually believe its accurate. Nah, fuck that. I’m just trying to keep warm. Mah room has been bloody freezing the last fortnight, radiator is probably fucked. And this is hardly doing me any good.

Let’s see. Racists scrawl, fitba stickers and oh advice suggesting that I should be getting a taxi, and there it is the times. Shouldnae have bothered. Just shite. That taxi shite was pissing me off. Like anyone can actually afford a taxi round here, can barely get the bloody bus. Honestly fuckin…

I turnt about. Some auld boy came up to the shelter and brought me back to the bus shelter. He asked me the time before lighting up. I wish I had mah earphones. The auld guy seems an alright sort but I can’t be arsed dealing with anybody. Besides what happens if it transpires he’s a cunt. Then Ah might git stuck with said cunt. Aye, misanthropy is the wey to go.

Fuck me. It’s too cold. Freezing mah bollocks off. Maybe it’ll snow soon and I’ll get off work for a bit. Speculative thinking but a boy can dream. Some dream too, getting away from work for a few day.

There. The 101 is actually about here. I heard they were closing the depot. I’m lucky to even be on a bus these days. There’s bugger all here theses days but then again there’s a co-op opening soon, better watch out we’ll be at risk of gentrification soon. Maybe I’ll leave.

And here we are. The doors struggle open and I do my best to ignore the driver while scanning mah ticket. I get my way to a seat, wading my way through the water which has collected in the aisle of the bus and is sloshing about. Maybe they’ve got a leak, wouldn’t surprise me. They’re ancient things, everybody is fucked if we crash. Thankfully I got myself a seat by myself. Some cunt once sat on m on a bus, unintentional but still. They could’ve apologies or maybe even acknowledged it. I don’t know. How the fuck does that bother me?

I don’t even mind being one busses most of the time but Christ when they’re bad, they’re bad. Between school weans, screaming weans in prams, people shouting on the phone. It’s all shite. I once saw a guy get on a bus just to do a pish and then got off immediately. Clearly he forgot that bus shelters were just as good.

I’m just gonna switch off. At least its pretty quiet. Maybe I’ll catch up on the backlog of sleep that I’ve been meaning too. Actually fuck that. Somebody will probably take my spleen. Can you actually harvest spleens? I don’t know. Christ mah heid is morbid.

No like my surroundings help. It’s grim. Maybe I’ll actually leave some day. Who hasnae said that though? And here we are thousands of souls who are dammed to stay here. Is it actually that bad though? Or am I just blinkered? Guess you can never see the full picture when you’re so close. Maybe I’ll piss off to some island.

I miss the sea. There’s just something about it. For some folk it constrains them, boxes them in but I always think it makes the world much bigger. I miss the days of being at the seaside as a wean. Getting soaked cause you couldn’t resist jumping in the sea and then getting a pokey hat, normally after terrorising your folks. Then you get older and realise how grim these seaside town actually are. Imagining yourself actually living there…

A girl just got on the bus. Well she tried. Forgot her student card and that’s her out on her arse. Gave the driver a right earful. The driver could have a bit of actually possessed an ounce of empathy but I don’t envy him. He’s got a shite job. Has shite bosses. Shite pay. And then has to put up with the rest of the shite. Mind you some bastarding bus driving prick closed thi door oan mi ance, utter prick. Ach fuck it.

Nearly here. Get aff an get oan. Nae else to be done. Ah start to make mah preparations to get aff the bus, alit the bus. At least that’s what some folk say. Shite. Who actual has tae say that? Pricks. Ah ring the bell and thi bus trundles tae a stop. That’s mi. Negotiate mah wey doon tae thi front. Hope tae fuck thi bastard actual stops the bus. Thay’ve goat form.

Wi trundle tae a stop. Ah thank the driver, mair oot ae habit than actual sinceritie. Ah step aff an that’s mi… ■

Lodaidh MacUilleim is a student from Scotland currently living in Glasgow.
He occasionally writes things as well as having been in a number of bands.

OTHER SUB/VERSE/IVE WORK

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