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Rated: E · Fiction · Other · #1302395
I created this with a writing prompt. The first and last sentence was created for me.
If it wasn’t for that bicycle courier, I wouldn’t be stuck in this pickle. Let me start at the beginning, it all happened on my way to work. I left my house at the usual time and running late as always. I ran down the street towards the bus stop, hopping I would make it in time. A bicycle courier came out of nowhere. I dodged the courier and whacked my head on a very low sign sticking out of a store front. Feeling a little dazed I continued towards the bus stop. Once I got to the stop I learned that I had missed my bus by 5 minutes. This in itself was odd since I was only 2 minutes behind schedule. I turned to the resident homeless person and asked if he knew anything about the bus schedule being changed. He looked at me with a contemptuous glance and promptly looked away, with out answering. Figuring there was nothing I could do about being late I sat down on the bench and prepared to wait the 15 minutes until the next bus was schedule to come by. Except the next bus wasn’t the right one and the next three buses after that weren’t right either. Now I really was late to work and getting very frustrated. When the next bus came along I asked the driver what happened to the “F” bus. He looked right at me and started speaking a strange language that didn’t sound like anything I have ever heard before. I started listening to others around me and they were all speaking this strange language. Confused and a little scared, I started walking. Not paying attention to where I was going I ended up at the state capital. Thinking this was the place to get answers; I entered and walked up to the information desk. “Excuse me, why doesn’t anyone speak English any longer?” I asked the clerk. Her reply was a series of bleeps, squeaks and blurbs, nothing I could understand. I started screaming at the top of my lungs that I need answers and fast. I through paraphernalia off the counters jumped up and down and made a huge fuss. The security guards came, tackled me and cuffed my hands behind my back. I was then dragged out the front door and onto a platform in the center of the plaza. All this time I am still screaming for answers. On this platform there was a single tree. Kicking and screaming I was drug up onto this platform. And that’s how I ended up duct-taped to the tree outside of the capital building.
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