THE FOLLOWING IS BEST READ IN A HEAVY SCOTTISH ACCENT
Fuckin’… I’s standin’ on the corner, rite? Mindin’ me own two cents. ‘An’ this… bus come out o’ nowhere, doin’ aboot… thirty mile an hour, in a mad bit o’ a rush.
Ah wave at the driver as ‘e’s comin’ up the road, ‘cos Ah’ve nothin’ better to do. An’ then Ah’m near pissin’ myself lafin’.
‘Cos probly newbody’s waved at ‘im fer the ‘ole drive, yano?
‘e’s goin’ on, no’ a care in da world, n’ ‘e sees some tosser standin’ there, wavin’ a’ ‘im. ‘e’d probly wonder if ‘e’s losin’ the plot. Probly gonna go home an’ talk aboot the nutter wavin a’ ‘im from th’ sidewalk wi’ ‘is wife an’ ‘is weans anaw, and they'd wonder if their da's losin' the plot, aye?
It'd be mental.
But den the bus stop, righ’ in fron’ a me, ‘n the door open up.
An’ there’s newbdy drivin’.
Ah look up a’ the sign, ta see where i’s goin’.
Notin’ there. Jus’ black.
An’ Ah star’ ‘hinkin’, “Dee Dee. Maybe yeur losin’ the plot. A grea’ honkin’ bus come outta nowhere n’ there’s no driver. Tha’ daesnae jus’ happen.”
An’ ‘en Ah ‘hink, “If Ah‘m losin’ the plot, might ‘s well lose it aw de way, aye?
So, Ah getsan.
An’ rite away, the bus starts shakin’ like mad and Ah ‘hink, “This is it, Dee Dee. Yeur finished. This bus is gonna shake yeh rite aff it. An’ aw yeh’ve got‘s fifty pence n’ yer pocket. Yeh ‘hink Sain’ Peter’s gonna be impressed wi’ fifty pence when yer up a’ the Pearly Gates?”
Nae. Ano ‘e isnae.
The shakin’ stops. So, Ah dash up top, no’ darin’ ta poke me head up fer any’hin.
But nothin’ happ’ns.
So, Ah gets aff, rite in the middle o’ the woods. An' Ah canne see, ‘cos those massive trees, they’s chokin’ the sun, aye?
An’ then, from behind one o' the trees, they pop oot.
Sizin’ me up.
Lookin’ ta skewer me wi’ their swords n’ arrows n’ such.
E’en the wean’s seein’ red, Ah can tell.
An’ before Ah can ‘hink on it. Ah look ‘em dead in the eye and says:
“Yer aw shite!”
An’ then it hits me:
Ah’ve probly pissed ‘em aff. An' Ah've nothin' ta fight with.
Clock’s tickin’, Dee Dee. Clock’s tickin’.
So, Ah run for the bus, fas’ as Ah can, bu’ the doors won’ budge.
The big’un reaches a han’ ou. Pro’ly ta hol’ me doon n’ cut my throat wi’ tha’ sword o’ hers.
Only one thing lef’ ta do.
Ah reach in me pocket n’ throw the fifty pence rite at ‘er eyes.
Knocks ‘er dead on ‘er arse.
Ah take a yocker, chucks it at the window.
Ah push the doors open.
The bus starts shakin’ again.
An’ jus’ like tha’…
Run up through the door.
Barracade meself in.
Sit on the sofa, n' wait 'till Ah can breathe properly again.
Turn on the telly.
“I don’t get why he would throw coins at you!” Bow exclaimed, dumbfounded. “I mean… they’re coins.”
Adora hummed thoughtfully from the ground as Glimmer massaged her head, alleviating the slight migraine caused by the offending objects that were now in Bow’s hands. “Maybe, wherever he was from, they use coins for weapons,” she hypothesized, regarding the taunting way the silver reflected the sunlight. “He got off… whatever that thing was, and the first thing he did was insult us, then try to fight us.”
Bow shrugged and slung his arrow over his shoulder. Glimmer, satisfied with her work, teleported over to where the sword laid and handed it off to Adora, who used it as a makeshift cane to push herself off the ground.
“We still need to be more careful when you try to summon something with the sword, though,” Glimmer explained, a bit of unease creeping into her voice. “If he’d been carrying anything else…” She shuddered at the thought.
Adora placed a comforting hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “Hey. Next time, it’ll be nothing like this. I promise.”
The statement brought a small smile from Glimmer. Adora counted it as a victory.
“My dads have a garden that they don’t use any more,” Bow said. “It’s not too big, but it’ll probably be a better place to do this in than the Whispering Woods.”
Adora glanced towards the sword which crackled with invisible electricity. Her face set in grim determination.
“Lead the way.”