First of all, can we take a moment to appreciate how cute that cat is?
Too adorable! Okay, so moving on, this story like you’ve rightly guessed is about the second time (and hopefully, the final time, Bless my heart!) I met an exhibitionist. First of all though, I asked if anyone wanted to hear the second story but only a few people – literally just a few- requested for it, and everyone counts so I decided to write about it. To all those that secretly wanted to hear about it but didn’t request, and didn’t comment, humph!
Anyway, the second time I met an exhibitionist was on my way back from school early this year I guess (can’t remember the exact time frame, but it was definitely this year). From my first experience (Click here to read about my first experience), I decided the following;
- I was never going to sit at the back of the bus
- Even if I was going to sit at the back, I would critically examine the individuals seated there before joining them.
- I would just sit right next to the conductor, or anywhere in his visual field.
- I would alert the conductor of any weird activities, if any, going on around me.
Now, based on my resolutions, when the bus stopped at the bus stop to pick me up, I tried to evaluate the passengers before getting on. And after a highly critical albeit 30 second assessment, I decided to go with point number 3. In his visual field.
Having boarded the bus with no qualms and with the journey being unremarkable (people getting on and off) the first five minutes, I started to really relax and feel proud of myself for my expert deduction/ selection skills at picking buses. The road was smooth, there was no traffic, the music wasn’t at the eardrum-killer volume, and we were getting close to my apartment. All was presumably right with the world. Or, so I thought (this is the part where you insert any action/ horror story track of your choice).
Okay, so moving on, the bus had almost gotten to the last bend before my street, but not really, when a person or two dropped off and this guy relocated from the back seat – You see! I was right about not sitting at the back. AVOID those back seats!– to sit right beside me. I was cool with it at first, I mean, it’s public transportation; anyone can sit beside anyone. Like I was saying, I was okay with it until I started hearing some sounds like slime sliding up something. You know, like some gurgly noises, and mild slapping sounds. So, I turned my head to survey what was going on beside me, and quickly observed the movement in the shorts. I swear, I think I must have rolled my eyes, because the exact statements that came to mind were; ‘not again! What is it with these guys!’. This time however, I decided to go on with point number 4. So I put on a sweet innocent smile and tapped the conductor. By this time, we had gotten to the last bend by my street.
Anyway, I tapped the conductor who was seated right in front of us, and ended up looking stupid. Because the conductor was looking at me like ‘Why are you tapping my shoulder?’ and the guy beside me magically became as innocent as a one year old kid, with his hand out of his shorts, and his shirt and shorts closed. So, in my mind, the place was the awkward sound of crickets even with the music playing because, I was staring at the conductor with literally nothing to say and no proof of what I wanted to say, and conductor was looking expectantly at me to say something. Finally realising that I probably had nothing to say, the conductor turned back to continue his business, and the guy beside me pressed play as well. Being the quietly stubborn person that I am, I rationalised that ‘jerk-off-er’ by my left probably noticed when I was going for the conductor and covered up his act, so, decided to wait for when Mr. J (J is for jerk-off-er) wasn’t looking to go in for the kill.
I can tell you my James Bond tactics didn’t work because I tapped the conductor’s shoulder again, and the exact same thing happened. In order not to look like a nutcase, I inwardly sighed, and told him I was dropping off (We were already at my street). Whilst coming down though, I made sure no part of me touched Mr. J.
Oh! and before, whilst waiting for the right moment to swoop in and expose Jay boy, ie when he wasn’t watching, I also spent that time gagging and praying that no atom of his jizzum would escape the confines of his shorts.
The second time was definitely more gag-worthy than the first. As usual, comment on any bizarre experiences you might have had, or advice even, on these types of situations. You never know who you may be helping.
- Cover image cited on Google from boomsbeat.com