elfs | I screwed up my courage, and...

So, I tried to write on the bus. I'd written 1400 words on the way up to Seattle in the morning and I was hoping to reproduce that on the way home. But, no, I get seated next to yet another nosy person. I mean, the bus isn't even full and she has to sit next to right next to me. She was the sort of woman who thinks she looks good in faux leopard prints and who thinks she smells nice wearing half a bottle of eau d' urinal cake. She was reading a book called We Who Are Called: Forgotten Heroes of America's Christian Heritage, and the chapter she's reading is about John Birch.

And she keeps trying to read over my shoulder. It's a nice, quiet scene between two characters from whom you've never heard, but she keeps leaning over. And I don't mean "peeking." No, she's leaning in to look closely.

I finally had enough. I said, "Miss, if you don't stop looking over my shoulder, I shall start writing violent homosexual pornography. If that doesn't put you off, I shall add bestiality to the plot. If that doesn't put you off, I shall have to ask for your phone number."

There were some shocked looks, and one woman who knows me reasonably well laughed. She's seen how frustrated I get when people read over my shoulder. Anyway, leopards-print woman harrumphed and went back to her book, but she still peeked over my shoulder from time to time. So I switched to hacking an HTML parser.