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January 21, 2013 / Andee Frizzell

Carnac The Magnificent Not

carnacMy mechanic’s shop is located on Clark and Georgia St; two blocks from East Hastings St. When I drop off my truck for its tri-monthly check up, I take the number 14 Hastings Bus thru the Downtown Eastside to get back home.

The Downtown Eastside of Vancouver, also known by my friends eight year old as Happy Town (cause he’s happy he doesn’t live there) is an area densely populated with drug addicts, multi-barriered minorities, the homeless and 65% of the displaced mental health patients living  amongst dilapidated buildings and rent by the hour hotels. The 14 Hastings bus is always full of unusual characters and teeming with eye-opening experiences.

The last time I had my oil changed and I took the bus back, was no exception.

I paid my fare and headed towards the back of the bus when I spotted an older man, wearing a fishing tackle hat sans the tackle and thick black framed glasses without lenses, sitting to the right with empty seats on either side of him. No one braved to sit by him. I felt compelled to find out why and sat in the empty seat to his left.

He barely seemed to notice I had sat down. He was running, out loud, an inner dialogue.  He was loudly, verbalizing all his thoughts. “I shouldn’t have eaten that day old doughnut. I think it gave me gas. When did that store get a new sign? Did I brush my teeth? I think I smell something?” and on and on it went. The inner workings of the human monkey mind.

About two stops later a very attractive brunette got on the bus and sat directly across from myself and the old guy suffering from verbal diarrhoea and possible day old doughnut gas. Immediately the old guy went quiet. Cat had his tongue?

Slowly, the thoughts started again and so did his lips. “Wow. That’s one hot looking lady. She’s got great legs. So slender and long.” He stared right at her as he spoke.

The brunette shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to cover her legs with her purse. Politely, silently, she was trying to ignore him or I’d imagine, wishing she had missed this bus.

“How long would it take to shave those legs? Does she shave them in the bathtub? I like baths. I’d like to have a bath with her. Bubbles clinging to her…”

“ExCus Me!”  Exclaimed the brunette, unable to contain herself any longer, “I’d APPRECIATE it if you’d stop fantasizing about me. It’s making me very uncomfortable.”

The old guy stopped mid speech and stared wide eyed, “Holy shit.” He said, “Fucking bitch is psychic! She can read my thoughts.”

And then he promptly exited the bus, feeling mentally violated… or so he said.


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