And what, may I ask, is your purpose here?

I never really believed the whole phrase "Don't judge a book by its cover". Yes, I know that if someone is overweight, for example, you shouldn't immediately believe that they eat at McDonalds every day, like many people I know do. Perhaps its an illness, or they have no encouragment to stay healthy. Maybe their family is overweight as well and can't seem to find anyway to have a healthy life. There could be so many things going on in that person's life that you just don't know about. Then again, there are those scuzzy people waltsing about. People with unshaven beards and 'staches but with nicely pressed ready-to-go business suits. Well, if you have enough time to look so pretty in your articles of clothing, then why not spend a little time on your facial aspects as well? That person obviously doesn't believe very much in personal hygiene. But, who knows, maybe he likes the old man off the street look. You just never know.

Now, today was a very nice day. The sun was bright and sunny, but not that annoying bright that wherever you go you can't seem to get out of the glare, but the pleasant bright that seems to reach every bone in your body. The clouds floating, seeming to mind their own businesses, across the sky and mindlessly bumped into each other without much meaning to. On this very day, I met a girl. Well, to be more precise, I bumped into a girl, managing to throw mine, along with hers, bags in the air.

I gathered her stuff, leaving mine scattered on the sparkling concrete that dazzled when the sun hit it quite right. She thanked me and I gave her a once over. Her short brown hair was sticking up in all directiongs and wasn't very clean, to be blunt. It actually looked sort of greasy. And, now that I got a closer look, maybe it wasn't brown. Black? No, not dark enough. I must have been staring quite intently for the girl cleared her through and brought me back to the current situation. I looked around me and remembered that my belongings were still scattered about. I smiled embarrassingly and bent down to pick up my purse and sunglasses.

Unexpectedly, she was still standing there with one eyebrow up. Standing up straight, I returned her strange stare. No one spoke for the longest time. I wasn't exactly sure why we were standing there. She had thanked me and now we were just staring at each other like there were other necassary words waiting to be spoken. "Well, bye." Were my bright "necassary" words. I walked around her and continued on my way. Feeling a little anxious I turned around and the girl was still standing there. But now she was turned around toward me and just staring at me.

That was the day that I had first met Brig. I had never heard the name before, but I had thought it had a nice ring to it. Too bad it didn't fit the person. Not to say I didn't like Brig. She was...interesting. Just not the kind of person you usually like to hang out with, or be seen with for that matter. After that day, I hadn't even thought back on her. I never thought I was going to see her again. She was just a weird stranger that stared at me funny. Nothing abnormal, right? Besides the staring part...

The day after, however, I was on the subway, absentmindingly looking at the train map and wondering what would happen if someone were to right false little stops on the map. Would everyone go mad? For sure, everyone crowded around it like starving dogs around a man with a loaf of meat. If someone were to false it up a bit, everyone would surely be utterly confused. They would be asking the robot conductors why they weren't stopping at port AG. "I'm sorry," The robot conductor would say, "There IS no port AG" And that would just madden the questioneer more. "Yes, but the map says that there is." He would say, pushing for an argument. With a robotic sigh the conductor would respond with the same bland voice, "The map is incorrect." Yet, of course, these idiotic passengers believe that the map is never wrong. So, there you go. More madness between a bemused robotic conductor and an idiotic map is always right believer. Although, I must say that this would be a very interesting argument to watch.

So, there I was, just standing there thinking through all these things and wondering if I should be the one to make up a port AG. Or perhaps a port FJ. Maybe even a YT. Or all three. Oh, the fun I could have. When I was about to commit an act of vandelism of this map on the subway train D, that same girl from yesterday stepped through those annoying automatic doors that reported at every stop where you were and that the doors were about to close or open.

It wasn't long until I looked over and recognized her. Coincidently, she looked over at the same time that I did. We made no remark or movement that I nor her were the same person from the day before. Although, I was pretty sure that we both knew who the other was. Or maybe I was just as mad as the bewildered idiotic passenger who believed that all maps were correct, especially ones on subways that told you which ports were where, because I thought that I knew what this girl was feeling and thinking just by looking at her face. Finally deciding that I would just ignore the grimy unshowered girl, I turned to stare back at the map that I began to loathe. 

It was rather annoying, really. Maps. Always telling you where to go and where you are. Not once do they believe that they are wrong. Not once. When actually, they can be wrong. Perhaps the map printer made a mistake because his calcualtion on the area was miscalcualted and thereforth placed onto the map incorrectly and thus leading to a very confused driver. Yes, maps are quite annoying, indeed. We would be well better off without them. That way, we might be able to know where we are without being lazy and turning to a map every time of the day. Heck, people are so direction challenged that they now have electronic maps. No more folding for us! Oh no, all it takes is a couple of pokes and prods. And maybe a couple more. Yes, well now we're frusterated at this little gadget because it keeps talking and talking and won't tell us where the bookstore is. Well, away with you!

Once again, deep in thoughts, the girl brought me out of my contemplating by tapping my roughly on the shoulder. I turned to her, not really wanting to speak to the girl. "Hello again." She said, seemig to have as much distaste in talking to me as I did with her, but seeming that the polite thing was to say hello. I wished she had done the rude thing and ignored me as I had been doing to her up until now. I counted to ten in my head, as my phsycologist had recommended, and smiled brightly and fakely and returned her hello.

"We met yesterday." She said, as if I hadn't recognized her, which I obviously had. "Yes." Was all I said, and I turned back to staring at the now even more hated map. I heard her sigh, but still kept my cool by counting up to ten again and then back down. "I'm Brig." The annoying girl said, her voice now not even trying to hide that she didn't want to do this, but once again, found it the polite thing to do. And once again, I wish she would follow my lead and just ignore me. Giving in though, I turned back to face her and said, "I'm Janeel." A smile curled on her lips. That was it. I was done being "polite" or whatever it was that I was doing.

I hated my name. Really, I did. And it seemed that whenever I told someone what my name was, whether it was teachers, friends, strangers, guys, whomever, they all seemed to snicker about in a secret joke that I didn't know about. Or maybe I had heard the joke too many times to find it funny any more. For some reason, Brig seemed to understand quickly and she wiped the smile from her face, returning to her bored complexion. Did she understand my distaste for my name? Perhaps she felt the same for her name. I thought it was a very unique name. Mine, on the other hand, sounded like something a slave did for the king.

"You there! Get on with your job!" "What job, sire?" The slave would ask, baffled at what could possibly make his king unhappy with. "You haven't janeeled you filthy slug!" Mentally kicking himself for forgetting, the slave would bow several times in apology and rush off to fufill his job of janeeling. Which could be anything from cleaning the backed up water from the lavatories to scrubbing the mold from in between the queen's toes. You just never know. Especially in those strange ages.

Brig eventually gave up on trying to cope with me and stared out into space. When the subway reached my stop I shuffled to the annoying doors and pushed my way through the crowd. When I looked back, Brig was nowhere in sight. Had she exited on this stop as well? Or had she been pushed back into the subway and was not anywhere in sight?

Reviews

[Ally Baker]

hahaha thank you fro sending me a read request for this laraine! i totally loved it ! it was hilarious! :D
~~Ally Baker
"Don't upset the writer. She might put you in one of her books and kill you."