Commute - Camp NaNoWriMo April 2015

Chapter Twenty-One - Cookies for Three Weeks

I'm really not sure about how to confront Homer Simpson. Like, really not sure. More not-sure than I was when faced with confronting Batman, or Thing Two, or any of the others (though I didn't really face Thing Two. She sort of faced me... but anyway). He's usually sleeping, and I can't exactly wake someone up, can I? Or he's eating, and it would be rude to interrupt. Sometimes he's just staring out of the window, like he's in a daydream. That's basically sleeping during the day, so I refer back to my 'don't wake someone up when they're sleeping' rule. He's a mystery.

I decide the least offensive of the three is to disturb him while he's eating. So, one morning, when the sun is actually shining - I know! It's a miracle! - I pluck up the courage to speak to him.

He's eating a burger (is he ever not eating a burger?) intimidatingly (can you eat a burger intimidatingly? Is intimidatingly even a word?), and I take a deep breath and walk over to him.

"Excuse me?"

He grunts.

"I was wondering..."

"No."

He turns round and glares out of the window.

Now, if I wasn't a journalist, I would slink back to my seat, with my tail between my legs. But this is what I do. I need this interview, and to get the interview, I need to get this man to talk to me. More than that. I need to persuade him to take my tape and talk into it for half an hour.

"Sir?"

"What do you want?" he half-shouts. Most of our fellow passengers turn round and stare at us.

"Excuse me, sir?" interrupts Grandpa Cookie. I look at him in surprise. "Can you come with me a minute, please? Just a minute..."

Grumpily, Homer Simpson stands up, giving me a Look of Doom as he does so, and follows Grandpa Cookie into the corridor.

Five minutes later, the two of them come back in, Grandpa Cookie with a satisfied smile on his face. Homer heads over to me. "Miss McKenna?"

I turn to look at him. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry I was so rude to you... John here explained everything to me, and I would love to do one of your interviews. I mean, if you want me to."

My face breaks into a smile, and I give him the tape. "Thank you, sir."

He turns back to Grandpa Cookie, and says, in a dramatic stage whisper, "That's a cookie every day for three weeks then, right?"

Honestly. Some people never change.