Judging Leads to Paranoia
I patted my wallet to reassure myself it was still safe in my patch-worked pocket, I could not bear losing it again. The musty smell of the city bus permeated my olfactory system, causing me to succumb into a sneezing fit. I wondered when I would be able to leave this coffin on wheels. The seat I was parked on, poked incessantly into my back, like a young secret admirer. The coffin's floor was spotted with unknown stains; some brown, some yellow, and some even the scarlet colour of blood. I was sweating profusely. For ten o'clock at night, the bus was surprisingly cramped; people were packed together like a bunch of sardines in a can, eliciting angered shouts and cries of pain at every turn the coffin made. The man standing next to me looked in my direction and winked his eerie black eye. I cringed; my back shuddering like ice cubes had been thrown down my shirt, and turned to look out the dust-covered window. When I swivelled back around, half the sardines were gone, though "Winky" was still there; he seemed to be concentrating on the bald spot adorning the back of the bus driver's head. I studied "Winky", his greasy black hair was stiff and grotesquely shiny, his beady, black eyes were still averted towards the bus driver; the stubble lining his jaw looked sharp and did not impede his appearance of, "Creepy stalker guy". Suddenly his face whipped toward me like a sling-shot, I bolted out of my seat that squeaked in protest and rang the dilapidated buzzed, hoping it would chime, ping! I speed-walked to the front of the bus and hopped off the steps, breathing out a sigh of relief.
I started my trek home down a lonely street, my sneakers slapping the rough pavement, thud...thud...thud. I turned around, knowing I had heard another pair of footsteps aside from my own, and there was "Winky", amusement pasted onto his pale face; I pivoted on my heel and began sprinting like the track star I'm not, stumbling like a new-born calf. "Winky" was gaining ground quickly, my heartbeat hammered in my ears, blocking out all sounds,bah-dump, bah-dump, bah-dump; my legs were burning like hot coal had seared my shins. "Winky's" hand shot out and yanked the hem of my already damaged jacket; I let loose a sound between a yowling cat and a barking dog. Suddenly, hurried footsteps could be heard rounding around the corner of the street, a hefty policeman ran towards us, the jelly smears on his face shining proudly in the streetlights for all the world to see. "Winky" abruptly let go of me and took off jogging; like he knew the policeman could not catch up to him, I would have been cocky too if that policeman were trying to chase after me, the operative word being, "trying". As soon as "Winky" vanished around the corner shrouded in darkness, "Batman" grabbed onto my more-than-damaged-way-past-repair jacket with his pudgy fingers and hassled me into his "Bat mobile", I might as well allow him the pleasure of recuing a damsel in distress for one night, looks to me like it doesn't happen very often.
After assuring "Batman" I was perfectly fine and not suffering from shock, he finally drove me home, obviously in the "bat mobile", with its flashing blue and red lights, I pretty much felt like Robin. We came to a stop in front of my one-story and after bidding my "partner in justice" goodnight, I hurriedly walked up to my front porch, listening to the sounds of the "bat mobile" screeching down the street, and there he was, "Winky", epitomizing the word "greasy" in my head all over again. I froze, tension wiring its way through my immobile body, getting ready to release at any moment in the form of a karate chop to "Winky's" sternum. "Wait!" he bellowed in a deep tone, "I just wanted to return your wallet, it had fallen out of your pocket when you dashed off the bus." Blushing in embarrassment, I accepted the wallet, thinking of never jumping to conclusions again.