I had once again gone to the library, there were very few people there, mainly because it was about to close, it was Saturday and the youth of today prefer to race cars and smoke illegal drugs than read books. I could have read all of the books if I wanted to, but I didn't want to start reading them, break my glasses and end up screaming in the face of irony.

Anyway, I took out eight books, but did not have my bag, so I would have to catch the bus. I knew from the start that the chance of the university bus being in service was slim. The term does not start until Monday. After a half hour wait, the number 116 arrived. If you don't mind, I will give you some background on the 116:

It is not part of First (the primary bus company in Swansea). It was set up about two years ago and was mainly run by Mexicans without coin dispensers.

On this occasion, there was not a Mexican at the wheel. Instead there was a man who couldn't have been more than 20 years old. As I expected he didn't have a coin dispensing machine, he was fully equipped with a bum bag stuffed with coins, or a fanny pack to you Amercianese.

The bus was full. I stood at the front. The next two sentences are not relevant to the tale, so feel free to skip it. The two chairs at the very front that don't face the front and are on a raised platform, had been replaced by one front facing chair. It looked very strange upon the high platform, a bit like a rocket ship. I placed my books in the luggage compartment and carried on listening to The Strokes on my mp3 player. The song was Electricityscape.

After thirty seconds or so, the bus stopped and the driver turned around, he said "Stop it". At the time I did not know who he was speaking to or what he wanted stopped. He drove on. I decided that I would stop listening to The Strokes and observe the bus instead. A group of five youths, aged 11-14 were standing up and opening the windows. Three of them had vaginas and two were each the proud owner of a penis. I did not check inside their underwear for this information, I worked it out by looking at their faces. It is only natural for youths to open windows, it gives them a feeling of power, as if to say "Look at me, I am an adult, if I want to open this window I shall". Then, out of nowhere, Mr Cotton Wool Ears emerged from behind the youths. On this occasion, his ears were empty. He closed the windows to his left, he closed the windows to his right. The youths stood back up and said "You smell. It smells in here" and re-opened the windows. For the next few moments the windows were re-opened and closed like out of control machines struck by the millennium bug.

After Mr Ears realised that he was beaten, he let out a roar. His voice was that of a thousand cats screaming in unison. "Drive!!! Drive!!! DRIVE!!!!!!" he yelled.

"Tell them to stop. Tell them to stop!!!" Once again the driver stopped the bus.

"What is going on?" he asked. Mr Ears put forward his case and the driver told the youths to stop it.

"But it smells in here" pleaded the leader. The driver was now in a difficult situation, he was clearly inexperienced with such matters and being only a few years older than the youths he had no real authority over them. I, being a vigilante, was tempted to step in and put a stop to this hate crime, but it was only half past four and the sky was not yet black (As you know, real vigilantes can only operate under the darkness of night). The bus was made up of mostly OAPs, I assumed that they would come to aid the man, but they did not. I could not have expected what happened next. The OAPs actually began to laugh, they were on the side of the youth. I can only imagine that he really did smell. I could not smell him for I have a cold.

Mr Ears was clearly outnumbered. Men and women of all ages were united against his desire to keep the windows closed. Then it happened. He began to cry. He put his hands to his face and wept whilst the driver drove on. Now victorious, the youths ran from seat to seat opening the windows. Other adults on the bus began to laugh and joke with the youngsters, this was obviously a bus gone mad. A woman rang the bell to stop the bus. It didn't stop. In the noise and confusion the driver kept going. The woman of approximately 65 years approached the driver and bellowed

"Why haven't you stopped? I have been pressing the button again and again. I think you're being distracted by that man. He really is a menace". Mr Ears life could get no lower, he was defeated by the youths, laughed at by his peers and labelled a menace by a woman. He continued to weep. We finally arrived at his stop, but he did not get off, he remained in his seat and cried out all of his sadness.

Poor Mr Cotton Wool Ears. Only on the 116 could this ever happen

Dave, Leicester.

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