Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-31749612-20170704020654/@comment-30700719-20170704033122

The eyes surrounded us. It was like the bus had been thrown into some pocket void, deprived of all brightness, save those eyes. "We're coming in...." the voice said in a sing-song tone. I whipped my gun out of its holster, albeit a little bit clumsily due to that last drink, and yelled, "BITCH I HOPE THE FUCK YOU DO! YOU'LL BE A DEAD SON OF A BITCH I TELL YOU THAT!" Awkward silence fills the bus, and the eyes slowly start to fade away, like really early in the morning. "We'll be back...." The bus returns to normal, and I sit back down. "Remind Kevin never to buy that stuff again. It's making me hear things, worse than that LSD you snuck into my cup." Simultaneously, we fall to sleep, and get waken up the next morning by a pair of cross-country cyclists.