Shivi (shivi) wrote in grantmewings,

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witness the 109 word sentence . . . of DOOM!

Marilyn Nicole Trevor is the most indiscreet person I have ever met, thought Helen. Since the dark haired woman had sat down next to Helen, she had almost never stopped talking. Helen had endured Marilyn Nicole’s opinion of every person on the bus, her speculations on the private life of the driver, specifically that he ‘looked like an alcoholic’ and the many things she and her sister, Melody Sue Trevor, would do together once Marilyn Nicole reached her sister’s home.
Helen added another complaint to her current list of annoyances with the human race in general. Everyone was like this, but Marilyn Nicole was an extreme example.
Everyone thinks that they are interesting, thought Helen, and not just a little bit interesting. They think that there can not be anything that would interest another person more than hearing them talk about their life, their problems, their plans, what they ate for breakfast, their favourite movie, who they are related to, what schools they went to, where they grew up, what colours they have dyed their hair, who they dated in high school, what popular people they know, what they are allergic to, what books they have read, what bands they like, what type of cola they prefer, who babysat for them when they were children, what celebrities they have almost met, where they have worked, and where they buy their clothes.
Just thinking about that never ending list of personal information made Helen’s brain threaten to go on autopilot. And it’s even worse if they have children, thought Helen, remembering an office Christmas party when some eager parent who wanted her to know every tiny detail about her child had cornered her, forcing her to listen to them go on and on, ceaselessly. Eventually, she had escaped by pleading that she needed to go to the washroom. She’d spent the rest of the party avoiding that woman.
And this Marilyn Nicole was worse. Far worse. The woman at the party had at least known Helen. But Marilyn Nicole did not even know Helen’s name. And she definitely didn’t know that Helen was a friend of Mary’s. But she had not bothered to ask if Helen knew any one on the bus. She just went ahead and insulted them all.
Helen was still angry with Marilyn Nicole for describing Mary as a ‘scrawny Goth circus freak’ and that had happened over an hour and a half ago. Helen just hoped Mary hadn’t heard that particular comment of Marilyn Nicole. But she probably had, since she was sitting right behind the two of them.
You would think the woman would know enough not to insult people when they were right next to her, thought Helen irritably of Marilyn Nicole. Helen idly predicted that Marilyn Nicole would be killed by a hyper sensitive person, who happened to overhear a remark of Marilyn Nicole’s about him or her, and happened to also conveniently be armed at the time.
Would that be a good solution to the excessive amount of assholes, wondered Helen, arming the ‘non assholes’? It seemed to be a rather awkward solution. After all, how would you tell who the ‘non assholes’ were? What if you accidentally armed an asshole by mistake? What if the ‘non assholes’ grew into assholes, because of the power they were given? No, concluded Helen, it was too risky. But maybe it should be tested, for the good of science, she thought, a smile hovering around her lips.
“What’s so funny?” interrupted the voice of Marilyn Nicole. The sound of her voice wasn’t irritating, thought Helen, so much as her frequency in using it was.
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