Mind Transformation 347

347
Back home.
It was a really hard trip. Fuck! I’ve been in a company of three robots, completely unconscious. They all, including the driver of a car, were lost in their foolphones all the time. The driver was a fucking bitch—so, so annoying. I asked her to close the damn window. She did it unwillingly saying lots of rough words, but soon she opened it again. I told her that I was sick, and that the open window was pretty dangerous for my health. She closed it again, and after 20 minutes, opened again. I asked last time, and after she repeated the cycle, I stopped making meaningless attempts. So it was very windy and cold for almost 16 hours. At the end of the day I actually hated the driver so much but not only because of the bloody window. She also promised to bring me to Tula, but then she changed her mind, and I get out of the car at 20km from where I supposed to be. Another two mates, as I already mentioned, were completely engaged in a process of communication with their foolphones.
My sickness, fortunately, hasn’t improved so much—
Ahh, I forgot to say about music. It was chiefly the main reason of why I hated the driver. She turned the damn music so loudly! It’s actually a sin to call this word trash “music.” It was like to go in a night club (for imbeciles) and be there for 16 hours. 16 hour in the fucking night club on the wheels! With a lot of wind and dummies stuck in their foolphones!
Okay, now I’m going to Kaluga. I’m on a bus and there is nothing to do except writing. In an hour I’ll be home. Just an hour. I’ll sleep on my bed, eat my lovely porridge, and get a bath. And also I’ll see this dull town with all of its stupid citizens. Perhaps next time I’ll go to the sea on a plane.

To the beginning: http://www.proza.ru/2018/03/10/1530
Next: http://www.proza.ru/2019/06/08/1061