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    Valkyrie
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Our Christmas Cookbook - 5. Bus Crazy

This is based on a true story, very loosely of course. A guy on my normal bus route looks a lot like Russell Tovey. This is a scenario I could see playing out.
Oh, and I love talking about Russell Tovey. This is my definition of Bus Crazy.

Bus Crazy

By Cole Matthews

 

I was looking at the festive colored street lights and boughs of greenery gracing the side of Nicollet Mall when I heard her for the first time.

“Oh. My. God,” she squawked. She being a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair done up in a bun. She was turned in her seat and speaking directly to me.

I didn’t respond, instead looking at her as patiently as I could muster.

“You look just like Russell Tovey,” she announced.

I could feel the burn on my cheeks as I noticed out of the corner of my eye that several other bus riders were now looking at me.

“I’m sorry,” I sputtered out. Immediate tension stiffened my back. “Who’s that?”

“You are the spitting image of him,” she said even louder now. She had a beaming smile on her wrinkled face that was heavily done up in makeup. Her bright, shining eyes were darkly lined and the green eye shadow was caked on thick. “I love him,” she added, quite pleased.

“Oh,” I said. I smiled at her without comment. I scanned the bus and saw the other bus riders now returned their attention elsewhere -- back to their phones and tablets. Relieved, I felt my shoulders relax.

“Are you related to him? Because you look so much like him,” she said with some confidence.

“I don’t even know who that is,” I said quietly.

“Oh,” she said in surprise, her eyes widening. They were a muddy brown I noticed. Not even remotely interesting.

She moved and a sickeningly sweet smell of flowers wafted off her heavy, quilted coat. “He was in that Being Human show. He was the wolfman and that other guy was the vampire. I love British television. It’s so much better than American shows, don’t you think?”

“I don’t watch much TV,” I said, trying to stop her flood of comments. I pointedly didn’t return her gaze as she continued. If you avert your eyes, it usually discourages them. Usually.

“American television always ruins good English shows like Being Human. What a great concept, a ghost, a vampire, and a werewolf living together and trying to make it in the world.”

I didn’t respond and bit my lip.

“Now, the only show that was better as an American show was The Office. Don’t you agree?” she asked me.

I waited to see if she’d take the hint and turn around, but she didn’t.

“You must see The Office on reruns. Millennials missed out on so many great shows.”

“I really don’t watch much TV,” I said quietly, hoping that would stop up the flow of words. This was a second strategy that usually worked.

“Sure you do. Your generation all pretends you’re too busy saving the planet and inventing new video games that you don’t have time to watch television. I know that’s not true.” She wouldn’t stop. “You guys watch it on Netflix!” she added loudly.

That was enough.

I stood abruptly and pulled the cord. “Stop requested,” the electronic voice intoned. I was at least six blocks from my office, but I had to get away from this crazy lady. She was driving me bonkers.

“Sorry, my stop,” I said to her and made my way to the front of the bus. I exited into the fresh cold air, and a flurry of snowflakes cascaded over me as another bus passed by.

***

“That’s weird,” Stan said, straightening the Christmas holly and poinsettia arrangement in the vase on his desk. I was commiserating with the only other gay guy in the office. We had a kind of alliance going on, not that the ad agency wasn’t supportive of all minorities, but sometimes it felt good to have another guy to talk to. “The unwritten rule is don’t talk with strangers on the bus and don’t comment on their appearance.”

“I know, right?” I said. “I couldn’t get away fast enough.”

Stan tilted his head and looked at me funny.

“What?” I asked, shaking my head.

“You do kind of look like him. He’s really very handsome though. Did you ever see him in The Pass? He was shirtless almost the whole movie. What a hottie!”

I puffed out my chest, “Are you saying I’m not good-looking?”

“Not Russell Tovey handsome,” Stan said wryly, but a there was a cheeky grin on his lips. “You’re more pretty, like Ryan Gosling or Brad Pitt than manly like Russell Tovey.”

“What a rude thing to say,” I said. “I’m here to tell you I’m plenty macho.” I placed my hands on my hips, completely betraying the words I used. Cocking my hip in a seductive pose, I then flicked back my hair.”

“What a queen,” Stan said, laughing at my show. “If you flame out any more, I’ll need to Stop, Drop, and Roll to extinguish the fire.”

That erupted laughter in me, and with him. We watched as a couple of guys walked past, looking at us in bewilderment. Stan stopped laughing and nodded at me.

“Enough of that.” I sat on the edge of his desk. “What are you bringing for the “Babes in Toyland” benefit?”

Every year the firm would have a buffet with the employees bringing in Christmas treats. Most of the others would chip in five or ten bucks to pick out a dozen cookies or bars. The money would buy toys for foster kids in short-term situations. It was a cause I considered very important for the holiday. I was one of the biggest advocates for this benefit, having had a foster brother who had it bad for so long.

“I’m bringing my grandma’s buckeye peanut butter candies,” Stan said. “What about you?”

I paused, pretending to think about it deeply. I’d decided a long time ago to make my lace cookies. They were suitably Christmas-y and seemed very intricate, but weren’t difficult, not really. Besides, I liked my treat to be a surprise.

“I’m not sure,” I finally said.

“Whatever you make will be delicious,” Stan said, grinning.

“See you later,” I said, standing up and waving as I walked back to my desk and the mountain of work awaiting me.

***

The bus was very full when it pulled up to my stop. Carefully carrying the bag with my container of delicate lace cookies, I maneuvered up the stairs into the only open seat.

I sat down and sighed, then panic began to seize me. I looked around and then breathed in deeply. The strange woman from last week was nowhere to be seen. It felt like I’d missed the bullet of her odd company once again.

In the days since the ‘episode’, I’d either avoided the nutty woman, or kept half the bus between me and her. I didn’t know why she bothered me so much, except she scared me a little. It worried me enough to ponder why.

When I’d discussed it with Stan, he said there are two kinds of crazy in the world. There’s normal, everyday crazy, which you can just ignore or shrug off.

Then, there is Bus Crazy. Bus Crazy is a special kind of nuts that is unpredictable, a little frightening in its depth and passion, and obsessive in scope. Regular crazy you can get away from so it’s not as potent or menacing. Bus Crazy is horrific because you are trapped in a small space and can’t readily extract yourself from it.

I’d finished ruminating on the delicate, yet important differences in crazy, when I heard the screech of the voice I so feared.

“Russell Tovey’s brother is here.”

I looked up and right in front of me was the woman, dressed in bright green pants and an orange coat. Her face was heavily made up, again, and I could smell a mixture of sickeningly sweet floral scents and her body odor. My muscles tensed, preparing for fight or flight. It was bizarre how much I was affected by her.

“You look even more like him today. Listen, I’ve been watching all his shows since we met and I swear, you have to be related,” she said, leaning down and into his face. “I watched Looking and The History Boys, and even that odd movie, The Hippopotamus. I did like him best in that television show, Quantico, but they canceled that now. He was so handsome in those shows. So sexy.”

I could feel the other passengers’ eyes on me, judging me, assessing me, from all around me. I couldn’t look up; it was that oppressive.

She continued, “Russell wasn’t in the first season of Quantico. He was added in the second season, but he was so believable, you know? I swear, you could be his twin, well, not his twin, maybe his brother, like I said.”

“That’s nice,” I said, not looking at her. “I really don’t know who—”

“Because, he has such distinctive features, like you. I think it’s his ears that are so remarkable, and his square jaw.”

I felt something rise up in me, and it suddenly came out. I couldn’t stop it, as much as I wanted to.

I stood and yelled, “Leave me alone you crazy bitch. I’m not this guy’s relative, whoever he is. I don’t care about your obsession with him. Please just leave me the fuck alone! Okay?”

I stopped and gritted my teeth as her mouth dropped open. Her eyes sparkled, and then tears came spilling out. She snorted and sobbed, her chin quivering. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, and then stepped back. Brushing her face with the back of her hand, her lower lip jutting out, she squeaked and then almost ran backwards into the belly of the bus.

I sat back down, and then realized everyone was staring at me. These people were staring in shock at my outburst, which I realized was over the top.

“She wouldn’t leave me alone,” I said to those around me.

“Dude, she’s just a friendly old lady. Why couldn’t you let it go?” a guy my age said sitting across from me.

“Not cool,” someone else said.

“What an asshole,” a woman’s voice uttered.

Quickly, I exited the bus, once again six blocks from the office.

***

My phone rang and I looked at the caller. It was my mother, and I answered it quickly.

“How did the cookies go?” she asked after we greeted one another. “I bet they were a hit.”

“They were,” I said. “I managed to break about half of them walking down the street.”

“Why were you walking down the street?” she asked. “You take the bus, don’t you?”

“I had an incident,” I said.

“Really,” she said. “What happened?”

“Some old lady kept talking to me on the bus.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” she said. “Was she threatening you or something?”

“No,” I said slowly. “She annoyed me, and I kinda blew up.”

“That’s crazy,” she said. “You’re usually so tolerant.”

“I know,” I said. “Can we drop it?”

After long pause, she said, “Sure.” More silence interjected for a few seconds until my mom said, “So, I got a call from your aunt. They’ll be here for Christmas.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Are they staying with you?”

“No. Russ is coming as well, and they’ve rented hotel rooms. He’s got such a busy schedule so they decided this would be a nice time for a family reunion. You’ll be coming over for Christmas eve dinner to see them, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” I said. “I haven’t seen my cousin in quite some time.”

“I know. We’re all looking forward to it. Well, I should be going. Lots of work to do before they get here.”

“Bye,” I said as I hit end on my phone, and looked in the mirror. I really did get my looks from my mom’s side of the family, the Tovey side.

 

Hazelnut Lace Cookies

 

2/3 cup of lightly roasted and peeled hazelnuts

4 tsp flour

Grind in the food processor until fine

¼ cup butter

½ cup sugar

Pinch of salt

Melt sugar into melted butter.

Mix hazelnuts and flour with the sugar and butter adding:

1 tsp milk

 

Bake at 350 degrees on parchment paper. Measure out 1 tsp of dough per cookie. Watch very carefully as they will brown really quickly after spreading out a great deal. Once the cookies are removed from the oven, let cool before removing. After they are all baked, melt the following in a double boiler.

1 cup chocolate chips

¼ cup butter

Drizzle over the cookies and let cool until hard.

So who do you think is Bus Crazy? Is it really the woman, or me? Thanks for reading!
Copyright © 2019 Valkyrie, aditus, Cole Matthews; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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  • Site Administrator

These cookies remind me of my absolute all-time favorite cookies.  Chocolate almond florentines. There was a pastry chef at my favorite restaurant who made these and it was a Christmas tradition for me and a good friend of mine to go there every year and get prime rib and these florentine cookies for dessert.  I'd always order two portions... one to go... and savor each melty bite.  Sadly, the restaurant closed, so no more florentines :(  

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I’d have to say both were at fault. She, because she wouldn’t take the hints. He, because he went from subtle hints to explosive rage that overwhelmed her. He never clearly stated to her that he wished she’d stop commenting about a man he lied about not knowing.

Maybe it happens to him too frequently or maybe this was the first time. But he needs to figure out a strategy for coping. His cousin has become too well known for things to just blow over and go away on their own.
 

I’ve had people tell me I look like Jackie Chan (I look no more like Jackie Chan than George Takei, Margaret Cho, or Chairman Mao do). The only resemblance is due to racism and bigotry. Besides, it’s white people who all look alike!
;–)

21 minutes ago, aditus said:

and I understood him so well... what does that tell about me? Don't answer that.

Those of us who tend to suppress our emotions and feelings sometime reach a point when things just boil over uncontrollably…
;–)

For me it’s a combination of cultural expectations and personal inability to identify what I’m feeling much of the time.

I understand his plight as I used to be a bus rider in OKC. I always had to deal with the "Bus Stop Confessionals." Something about me just makes people want to pour out their life stories (mostly tragedy) to me. I call it my "universal ear," and it is both blessing and curse. More often than not the rides were quiet or I met the most weirdly lovable people. These cookies sound delicious, definitely gonna try them out. Kudos on another excellent story. 

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In the Eighties, I worked for Mervyn’s which was owned by Dayton Hudson at the time. In the first decade of this century, I worked for Target which was founded by Dayton Hudson and eventually grew to dominate the corporation so much that they renamed themselves after their largest division. Corporate stuff always had a Nicollet Mall return address. Is he a Target Corp ‘Team Member’?
;–)

  • Site Administrator
2 minutes ago, droughtquake said:

You don’t want to sit next to me. I talk to other passengers. Not every time, but more than just occasionally.
;–)

I saw it on FB and it made me think of this story.  I do talk to people in elevators and when I travel on planes, but generally they're the ones starting the conversation. 

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Loved the story, Cole, and especially the office banter between Stan and the main character. It was hilarious. I was disappointed about his outburst, but I got it in the end. He pretended he didn't know him, but must have got that reaction a lot... it struck too close to home. Thank you... this was very entertaining... and yeah, Russell Tovey is hot. Cheers... Gary....

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On 12/5/2019 at 8:23 AM, Valkyrie said:

These cookies remind me of my absolute all-time favorite cookies.  Chocolate almond florentines. There was a pastry chef at my favorite restaurant who made these and it was a Christmas tradition for me and a good friend of mine to go there every year and get prime rib and these florentine cookies for dessert.  I'd always order two portions... one to go... and savor each melty bite.  Sadly, the restaurant closed, so no more florentines :(  

That's too bad.  I'm baking some more of these cookies later today.  Maybe a fairy will carry some to you!!!  

  • Love 3
On 12/5/2019 at 8:33 AM, chris191070 said:

These cookies sound absolutely adorable, can’t wait to taste them.

 I loved the story. Bus lady was a bit crazy, she wouldn’t take his subtle comments. But he really hurt her feelings when he stood up and shouted at her on the bus, she wasn’t really doing him any harm apart from being annoying.

That's so true.  In fact, I thought perhaps the narrator was more 'bus crazy' than the woman. The cookies are quite tasty and easier than they look.  

Thanks for the lovely comment!

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On 12/5/2019 at 8:45 AM, Valkyrie said:

As far as who's 'bus crazy'... maybe a bit of both.  It's annoying when people don't get the hint and I think we all understand the urge to blow up at them.  I've been in a similar situation and ultimately ended up feeling like the crazy one. 

So very true.  "Bus crazy" isn't limited to a certain set of people.  All of us are vulnerable to it's vagaries when caught up in events!!!  

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On 12/5/2019 at 11:46 AM, dughlas said:

I understand his frustration but as he admits it was a bit over the top. Of course the best part was the ending.

I have eaten lace cookies in the past and enjoyed them though they were not hazelnut. I may give these a try as my mum is fond of hazelnuts.

You should try them!  They are quite simple, just make sure you pull them out when they are beginning to brown.  The tray will continue cooking them.  

I'm glad you enjoyed the story.  I enjoyed watching every Russell Tovey movie and show I could get my hands on, especially The Pass!!!

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On 12/5/2019 at 1:20 PM, droughtquake said:

I’d have to say both were at fault. She, because she wouldn’t take the hints. He, because he went from subtle hints to explosive rage that overwhelmed her. He never clearly stated to her that he wished she’d stop commenting about a man he lied about not knowing.

Maybe it happens to him too frequently or maybe this was the first time. But he needs to figure out a strategy for coping. His cousin has become too well known for things to just blow over and go away on their own.
 

I’ve had people tell me I look like Jackie Chan (I look no more like Jackie Chan than George Takei, Margaret Cho, or Chairman Mao do). The only resemblance is due to racism and bigotry. Besides, it’s white people who all look alike!
;–)

I'm sure being related to a famous person can get annoying, especially if you look like them.  Now I'm trying to picture you doing a George Takei impression dressed in drag as Margaret Cho and holding Mao's little red book while doing a Jackie Chan kick.  It's cracking me up!

Thanks for the wonderful comment.  You've got me giggling.  :)

  • Haha 3
On 12/5/2019 at 1:27 PM, aditus said:

and I understood him so well... what does that tell about me? Don't answer that.

It means you have a normal level of annoyance.  I did make her pretty over-the-top, but then I was a bartender and was subjected to plenty of 'trapped' moments.  Come to think of it, she wasn't as bad as some of my former regulars.  Hahaha!!!  Thanks Addy!

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