The Loud Family gets on at a bus stop in West Linn where we usually pick up zero to one person: 11 people with the gross mass of about 18 and with a combined IQ of about 900. They carry on their conversations, about Mom’s shoes, Sis’s socks, marriage regulations in Utah (whether or not Mormons are permitted polygamy), and other disconnected family concerns (Gasp! “We left the phone off the hook!”), while the other big sis sings “Silent Night ” off-key to a babe in arms.
The two who sat further back in the bus carry on a loud conversation about the Star Trek multi-racial world.
Their garrulous volubility raises such an intrusive hubbub that I can focus on nothing but them.
The big sis with purple toe socks sitting in front of me lifts her arm to stretch it across the seat back, and I have to open a window to let in some fresh air.
Sometimes blogging is the best revenge.
After finishing the post, I gladly and quickly got off my bus downtown to wait for my next ride out to work, and who should come lumbering up the street but the Loud family again.
Now I’ve learned about Mom’s springy shoes and her diabetic condition and the gun and combination bow collection of the one who carries all the bus passes for the whole family. Also about their dolls and their early life in a cabin with no indoor plumbing and fire-powered irons.
When I got to work, I learned that a man had called from England, hopping mad because he gets wrongly addressed e-mail. My work website is one letter different from his website, and therefore, it’s our fault if he gets mail addressed to him that is not intended for him.
He’s been mad at us for two years about this, mad enough to phone from England.
I need a button that says, “I’ve had my daily allocation of crazies. You take the next one.”