fascistprincess

Look at pictures of my nice, dainty wife by clicking on rectangles above.

Two bus stops. Each on perpendicular streets. At one stands a seemingly Mexican man of seemingly 50 years with a thick wool plaid flannel that positively does not contain the color red but is buttoned up. This man also wears pants and a cowboy-esque hat. He holds a bag and has a good face with endearing psychic qualities. He is seemingly waiting for a bus that will take him away from here.
Not with him but near him stands a shorter, plumper, roundish brownish woman with a white baggy t-shirt that hangs at about mid-thigh range over red stretchy tights/pants that tapers down and terminates, tightly still, above ankles. Below ankles white socks and shoes occur.
The bus stop perpendicular to the Mexican man/roundish brownish can also brag the next day that a woman was waiting amongst the shadows of its tell-tale sign the very late night before. She wore garments that appeared exactly as the other woman in terms of style, cut, color, tightness, looseness. Possibly the size may have differed but also possibly not, because, mind you, this was quite a dense woman herself. She did appear taller, though. They all shared the same faith with all who believe that a bus will appear at a certain time without even one solitary eye glimpsing a small boxy vehicle in the distance that may look like it may be the shape of a bus coming toward them. They all wanted many things at that hour in their life; maybe the old kind wrinkly-eyed Mexican gentleman wanted to pee on round brown standing next to him while she was explaining that she needed change for a 5 dollar bill by repeatedly counting her fingers for him to
"F-I-V-E." Of course, wanting to pee on her not for anything negative she is doing such as the belligerent counting of numbers 1-5 on her pudgy, fleshed fingers, but rather for a pure gesture of sincere erotic passion. Possibly she wanted to suck his older soft-spoken penis and have him give her money for doing as such. Or just maybe she wanted the money, or the penis, and not one mingling with the other. Whatever it was they wanted, it began decreasing in size as it moved backward to the far horizon of their mind picture only to be replaced by the mythological transporting bus. They could not begin moving toward any of those wants, they thought, until they were confident that that bus was gonna come for them. While that city pamphlet propaganda strengthened faith began to shatter by the bus not turning any corner and revealing even a tiny glare of a streetlights jaundiced bulb on its coin etched windows the waiters could think of nothing at all except for how everything at this moment would be enough to satisfy them just if their oh so desired bus would happen to happen by. If they left now they knew that in the morning, when they woke, a belief would be completely destroyed for them; a way of thinking, a sort of innocence and expectancy of things to occur in an orderly manner would be supplanted by a bitter taxi taking, or long walking, acidic heart.
They waited still because the idea of another choice was far too grim and obscene to even slightly fondle. The tight red pants by friendly faced Mexico pee man yelled to the only other person on this street at this dirty time of night. This boy was sitting across from those faith grippers watching them quite quietly while biting into a sort of strawberry ice cream bar that was so soft it also did not make a single sound distinguishable from the point of a standing-listening-for-any-possible-bus-sounds-ear situated across that littlest street. He sat silent thinking of the identical panted, shirted heavy humans near one another and began to remember how once red jeeps followed his every motion. He thought possibly this was relative to that, and that they surely wanted him to know that otherwise why place them such as that. This associative jeep agent yelled at the very observant boy so that he would sell her a cigarette. He said she may have one and did not move thinking to himself something very much like, she should move her fat ass and come over here herself if she wants a cigarette because I am not moving. She must have heard this because she crossed the street and got her gift. He declined the two silver coins, one small and one bigger, her hand lifted to expose to him. She told him that he had vacuum like energy and that things want to get near to him and to keep doing what he has been doing and she is so upset right now she could kill something and, man!, she sighs, this motherfucker was supposed to be my motherfuckin man and he didnt do shit when she was something to do with the word locked, but still she continued about the boy, to the boy, telling him that he should not listen to the things trying to get him to do the bad thing but just continue doing what he has been doing and do not, definitely do not, think or associate with the dark-haired girl who wears darker colored clothes. She said to the boy with a black priestess grin, but I aint got to tell you because you already know, HA!
The boy had a key to the door where in front of he was seated. He stood up and agreed with the woman that he knew something and maybe smiled as he put the key in a jagged little slot and she started back toward whence she crossed, but suddenly she turned around and walked toward the boy giving a name as did he in return as the door opened. And after she turned and took the first step in movement toward that again mentioned spot the door concurrently sealed in the manner of thousands of human cluttered city buildings drab colored wooden doors.