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The dude was one of those scrappy motherfuckers, you know? Wasn't actually short but carried himself like he was tiny and had a chip on his shoulder about it. Wiry, with hair like a deranged blond troll doll, wearing this big trenchcoat that fit like crap. Looked like he'd pop you in the mouth if you even looked like you might be thinking about getting in his face. Skinny neck, weird damp Stetson hat that totally didn't fit him, which he'd tied around his neck with what looked like some string or something.

Weirdly hot, though. Should've looked like the kind of dude you crossed the street to get away from, but honestly I coulda rubbed all up on that.

I'll give him this. He was polite where it mattered. The guy got on the #2 near the museum -- he didn't know how much the fare was, and the whole time the bus driver was showing him how to pay his fare, the guy kept up this monologue about someone who'd, like, driven his car into the lake, or something, and not for the first time, for fuck's sake -- and he took one of the seats near the front. But literally on the next stop a super-pregnant lady got on, and the guy jumped up and offered her his seat. Good thing, too, because for some reason the woman was wearing heels. Like, what the fuck? The woman was so pregnant I wouldn't have been surprised if her water would break before we got to campus, and her shoes had, like, three-inch stilettos.

The next stop we got this old dude with a cane, and nobody stood up. The poor old dude was all leaning on the pole, doing the best he could. Nearest seat is taken by this suit-wearing douchebag reading a newspaper -- the Wall Street Journal, natch -- with legs spread out so far he could have fit an entire brass band up against his clearly tiny dick. Troll Doll gets all up in his face, like, "It only takes an extra second to be curtsiest." When Newspaper D-bag just stared at him, confused (and it's not like I understood what Troll Doll was saying, either), Troll Doll grabbed Newspaper D-bag by the shirt collar, literally hauled him out of his seat, and snarled "please give up your seats to the elderly and disabled, asshole." You could see the bus driver looking back, trying to decide if she wanted to get involved, but in the end she grinned a little in the mirror and kept driving. I think we were all on Troll Doll's side at that point. When Old Dude sat down, some girls at the back of the bus applauded a little bit.

Newspaper D-bag was trying to decide if he wanted to make something of it, but the passengers were so clearly not on his side. When he even touched the same pole as Troll Doll the guy literally snarled right in his face, bared teeth and everything, like a goddamn cartoon. Newspaper D-bag jumped back and bumped into a woman who I'm pretty sure kicked him, and then he almost tripped over my backpack.

I had to get off the bus at that point, which was disappointing, because this was the best movie I'd seen in ages.

Weirdly, I saw Troll Doll again later that afternoon, when I was on my way to class after my shift. He'd ditched the trenchcoat and was wearing a t-shirt -- and I was right, the dude was hot like burning. And this super pretty guy in one of those red suits (like that poem, you know? "They're changing guards at Buckingham Palace?" It was a Winnie the Pooh poem I loved when I was a kid) was holding on to the ugly trenchcoat, pointing at its lapels.

"You need a new button, here," he was saying when I passed. Didn't sound British, so I guess he wasn't one of the Buckingham Palace guards. "I believe it ripped off when we were making our escape from the fish stick processing plant."

"Jesus H., Frase" yelled Hot Troll Doll, as I definitely did not cross the street as I passed. Because see above, re: wanting to rub all up on that. "Why even were we in the fish factory? Did it have anything to do with you driving my car into the lake like it was a calvary horse?"

"I wouldn't ride a cavalry horse into a lake, Ray," said Red Suit -- said Frase. Then he put one hand on Hot Troll Doll Ray's chest, right where the lapel would be if Hot Ray were still wearing that awful coat. "I've got some deer sinew that will be much stronger than thread for holding that button in place."

Hot Ray was staring into Frase's eyes like he'd said something that wasn't about deer sinew or fish sticks at all. I couldn't really blame Frase for the aura of, like, literal hearts exploding around his head. I'd have skipped class to keep watching the Frase-and-Hot-Ray show all day, but a second later a cop car pulled up and this pretty policewoman leaned out and yelled "all aboard if you don't smell like fish sticks," and that was the last I've seen of either of them.