So there I was in the bus again, heading to work. Sit down in the seat opposite the door, flick out phone and start looking through Twitter. After a while the woman next to me, in the aisle seat, get up and is replaced by a pregnant lady. What with all the flags and things, I couldn't help thinking about bombers. Specifically, a pregnant woman who went boom at the army hospital. Now I know they're all dead and surrendered up north, but did anyone tell the tigers down in Colombo about that?
So I try to look at her through the corner of my eye. Dark skin. Prime suspect, if previous bombers are to be considered. Though one can't be sure, as there's not much skin left to go by after a bomb, and those who were close enough to notice aren't really in a position to comment. Deciding that I didn't want people adding a 'Bless his soul' after mentioning my name just yet, I turn ever so slightly.
To check out her chest.
Now, this is no easy task even when many meters away, and is almost impossible when you're right next to a person. There was also the chance of her getting so pissed off she'd blow me to bits just for that. Were suicide bombers taught enough discipline and restraint to wait for the proper target(s) even in the face of perverts?
Catch a microsecond long glimpse.
Doesn't _seem_ to be wearing anything looking vaguely like a vest. Try to take another look and see that there are three women standing right next to her. They look angry. Thoughts running through my head wondering whether they saw me trying to sneak a look. After a minute or so of sweating it out while staring straight out the window, I start thinking 'God. I've been relatively good to you, never killed anybody or anything like that, don't let me dieeee... I have plans! Things to do! You ca-'
Was it just me or was my walkman's volume a few notches higher now? I listen to the words. "If you were dead or still alive, I don't care, I don't careeeeee!"
Mortified. Damn Adam Gontiere and his stupid song. Damn him to hell.
Just to make sure, he adds "I swearrrr!"
After much shaking of hands and plans of mad dashes to the door, I feel a stare burning into the back of my neck. Turn around to see the pregnant woman gone, and replaced by one of the three witches. She was staring at the back of my head.
Oh well, strange, offended woman is better than strange, about to blow up woman. Offended women can be ignored. A bloody big bomb can't be. All's well, God exists, and he likes to scare people.