Pests

Phylum part 2

The secretary swung the door open and gasped. She was understandably horrified.

   I got up slowly and tried to calm her down. My hands raised slowly and I started to put them above my head as if I was innocent.  I was definitely not innocent.

 "Listen.  Dr. Samson, and I, well... he"

 "... got what he deserved?" she finished my sentence for me. She smirked in slow motion

 "Exactly."

We smiled at each other and she left the room. I got down on the floor and moved within an inch of his face.

"See Dr. Samson? No one is one your side here. We are done here."

I spit on his face before I pushed myself back up and walked towards the door.

Fucking punk thinks he can just get away with this!

I quickly turned around, smiled, and rubbed my chin.

"Oh yeah! Thanks for reminding me!"

I went over to his desk and grabbed the Macbook.

"If you say anything, to anyone at all I'm turning this in to the cops! Who knows what kind of horrific shit they will find on here."

I slammed the down, and started to whistle as I walked away. I gave the secretary a snap and a point and she waved goodbye. As I walked back out of the campus to the bus stop, I felt like the meme of Leonardo DiCaprio walking through the campus.

  After about five minutes, the bus pulled up and I threw the $1.75 in the coin collector and sat down next to a beautiful girl.

“Uh excuse you...” the girl said with a judgmental look on her face.

 “Huh?”

 I looked down and realized I was sitting on the edges of her jacket.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see that.”

I moved. The girl kept shifting in her seat, trying over and over again to get comfortable.  There was another bus rider that was reading the entertainment section of The Denver Post.

The headline was a jaw-dropping "Disney buying Lucasfilm for $4.05 billion; to make new Star Wars trilogy."

   God dammit. Is nothing sacred anymore? Are there really no more independent artists or arbiters? I guess everyone does have a price. Being an artist did used to mean something at a certain point and time, but now it all falls down to whatever the oligarchs and media elite decide to force down the masses collective throat. Is this really any artist's only end game?

 I can’t believe how uncomfortable this is!

She continued to shift her butt in the seat. This girl was interrupted my rage; which was extremely enraging. What is she bitching about now? 

I’m never letting Johnny do that again. I don’t care how drunk he gets me... I totally know why people don’t have anal sex now.

   I started cracking up. I knew the girl was staring at me in confusion, but I didn’t care. I was laughing so hard tears were coming down my face.

 “Next stop, Alameda.”

 The bus driver mumbled into the mic. I brought myself together enough to stand up. As the bus driver pulled up to my stop, I finally took a break from laughing and wiped the tears away from my eyes. I looked at the cute girl, and held my aching ribs from the laughter and the pain was seeping back in after the drugs.