The Bus To Paris
By: Jessica R Vance, the bored wench with nothing to do
Rating: PG for mild swearing (Bad Javert! No cookie!)
Disclaimer: I'm not sure I *want* this...
Author's Offical Apology: This is officially the stupidest thing I've ever written. I know that already. Therefore, if you don't like it, just don't review it please. ^_^;;;
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"Three francs? Just to get to Paris? This is madness!" Javert grumbled as he got on the bus. He flopped down in his seat with a huff as the rest of the passengers boarded.
"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked him. Javert looked up to see a man, about 10 years older than himself, standing over him. He shrugged and shook his head. The gentleman sat down, politely thanking him.
They rode in silence. Javert was bored. He stared out the window for a while, then began to study the passengers.
There was a young man, about 20 years old, in a red vest and white blouse, sitting with another gentleman about his age who was clutching an empty wine bottle like a lifeline. "Enjolrash, are we dere yet?" he asked his companion, hugging the bottle to him.
"Grantaire, you are an idiot," the man in the vest answered.
The drunkard's eyes widened. "What? What'd I do?" he slurred, "I wash jusht ashking." He turned away, grumbling.
"Moron," Javert thought to himself. He continued scanning the occupants of the bus.
"Are you listening to me?" a young woman asked the man she sat with. Indeed, the boy's mind seemed to be wandering far from his seat-mate.
Along with his eyes. "Trouble brewing," thought Javert.
"Huh? Oh, sorry Eponine," the young man answered, "I was just staring at that girl over there."
"So I noticed," Eponine answered hotly, "Who is she, anyway?"
"I don't know, but isn't she beautiful?"
"Marius, she can't be more than 15 years old!"
"So?"
"So! You're 20! She's far too young for - "
"Ooooo!" Marius squealed with delight, "She looked at me!"
Eponine sighed defeatedly. "I give up," she muttered.
Javert sighed. "Hormones," he thought to himself, "What an awful burden." He glanced at the gentleman next to him.
He... looked familiar.
Not wanting to be rude and stare, Javert looked out the window. He just *knew* he had seen that man before... but where? On TV? No, this was 1832, TV hadn't been invented yet.
Then again, neither had buses.
"Must have been on TV," Javert said to himself.
"Beg your pardon?" the gentleman asked.
"Oh, nothing, monsieur," Javert answered politely. There was a pause. "Do I know you, monsieur?" he asked cautiously.
"I don't think so, sir," the gentleman answered, smiling. "By the way, has anyone ever told you how ridiculously large your hat is?"
"... What?"
"Your hat," the gentleman continued, gesturing to the headpiece in question, "It's huge. Why don't you get a smaller one?"
Javert was dumbfounded. "Uh..."
"And shave those awful mutton chops. They're atrocious!"
"I *beg* your pardon, sir!?" Javert demanded, standing up and glaring at the stranger.
"NO STANDING UP WHILE THE BUS IS IN MOTION, SIR," the voice of the bus driver sputtered over the loudspeaker. Javert sighed and sat down.
The gentleman chuckled to himself. "You got busted," he jested. Javert growled.
"Shut up."
There was more silence.
"Are you *sure* I don't know you?" the inspector insisted after a moment.
"Fairly sure, sir," the stranger answered, "That is, of course, unless you recognize me from Montreuil-sur-Mer."
"... WHAT!?"
"I'm the ex-mayor of that city, sir," the gentleman explained.
Javert stood up again. "I KNEW it!!! You're Jean Valjean!" He laughed maniacally. "I finally have you!!! Prepare to be carted off to the galleys, convict scum!" He looked out the window. "At our next stop, of course."
"NO STANDING UP WHILE THE BUS IS IN - "
"Dammit!" Javert swore, sitting down. He glared at the man next to him. "Be prepared for your capture, 24601!"
The man stared blankly at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid with me, Valjean! You were the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer under the name of Monsieur Madeleine! I tried to arrest you there, but you got away!" He paused. "You're very good at that." Then he shook his head. "No matter! I shall finally have you!"
The man's blank look remained. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else, monsieur..." he said, "My name is Steve Johnson. I was the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer from 1825 to 1827."
Javert stared at him.
"Yes, well... that's what you think."
"Beg your pardon, sir?"
"Oh, I don't know!" Javert put his head in his hands and began to sob. "It's just... I've been chasing this convict all over the place and I just can't capture him! I don't GET IT!" He grabbed Steve Johnson by his collar and shook him. "WHY CAN'T I CAPTURE HIM!?"
"PLEASE RELEASE THE PASSENGER, SIR," the bus driver said.
"Oh for God's sake," Javert exclaimed, tossing the poor man aside, "Leave me alone, will you?"
"WELL SIR, IT'S MY JOB TO MAINTAIN ORDER ON THIS BUS..."
"Screw order on this bus! Shut up or I'll beat you with my nightstick!"
The bus driver shut up accordingly.
Javert sat down with a huff and crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at Steve Johnson. "And you... you watch yourself," he warned the shaken ex-mayor.
It was a long ride to Paris.
~Fin~
By: Jessica R Vance, the bored wench with nothing to do
Rating: PG for mild swearing (Bad Javert! No cookie!)
Disclaimer: I'm not sure I *want* this...
Author's Offical Apology: This is officially the stupidest thing I've ever written. I know that already. Therefore, if you don't like it, just don't review it please. ^_^;;;
-----
"Three francs? Just to get to Paris? This is madness!" Javert grumbled as he got on the bus. He flopped down in his seat with a huff as the rest of the passengers boarded.
"Is this seat taken?" a voice asked him. Javert looked up to see a man, about 10 years older than himself, standing over him. He shrugged and shook his head. The gentleman sat down, politely thanking him.
They rode in silence. Javert was bored. He stared out the window for a while, then began to study the passengers.
There was a young man, about 20 years old, in a red vest and white blouse, sitting with another gentleman about his age who was clutching an empty wine bottle like a lifeline. "Enjolrash, are we dere yet?" he asked his companion, hugging the bottle to him.
"Grantaire, you are an idiot," the man in the vest answered.
The drunkard's eyes widened. "What? What'd I do?" he slurred, "I wash jusht ashking." He turned away, grumbling.
"Moron," Javert thought to himself. He continued scanning the occupants of the bus.
"Are you listening to me?" a young woman asked the man she sat with. Indeed, the boy's mind seemed to be wandering far from his seat-mate.
Along with his eyes. "Trouble brewing," thought Javert.
"Huh? Oh, sorry Eponine," the young man answered, "I was just staring at that girl over there."
"So I noticed," Eponine answered hotly, "Who is she, anyway?"
"I don't know, but isn't she beautiful?"
"Marius, she can't be more than 15 years old!"
"So?"
"So! You're 20! She's far too young for - "
"Ooooo!" Marius squealed with delight, "She looked at me!"
Eponine sighed defeatedly. "I give up," she muttered.
Javert sighed. "Hormones," he thought to himself, "What an awful burden." He glanced at the gentleman next to him.
He... looked familiar.
Not wanting to be rude and stare, Javert looked out the window. He just *knew* he had seen that man before... but where? On TV? No, this was 1832, TV hadn't been invented yet.
Then again, neither had buses.
"Must have been on TV," Javert said to himself.
"Beg your pardon?" the gentleman asked.
"Oh, nothing, monsieur," Javert answered politely. There was a pause. "Do I know you, monsieur?" he asked cautiously.
"I don't think so, sir," the gentleman answered, smiling. "By the way, has anyone ever told you how ridiculously large your hat is?"
"... What?"
"Your hat," the gentleman continued, gesturing to the headpiece in question, "It's huge. Why don't you get a smaller one?"
Javert was dumbfounded. "Uh..."
"And shave those awful mutton chops. They're atrocious!"
"I *beg* your pardon, sir!?" Javert demanded, standing up and glaring at the stranger.
"NO STANDING UP WHILE THE BUS IS IN MOTION, SIR," the voice of the bus driver sputtered over the loudspeaker. Javert sighed and sat down.
The gentleman chuckled to himself. "You got busted," he jested. Javert growled.
"Shut up."
There was more silence.
"Are you *sure* I don't know you?" the inspector insisted after a moment.
"Fairly sure, sir," the stranger answered, "That is, of course, unless you recognize me from Montreuil-sur-Mer."
"... WHAT!?"
"I'm the ex-mayor of that city, sir," the gentleman explained.
Javert stood up again. "I KNEW it!!! You're Jean Valjean!" He laughed maniacally. "I finally have you!!! Prepare to be carted off to the galleys, convict scum!" He looked out the window. "At our next stop, of course."
"NO STANDING UP WHILE THE BUS IS IN - "
"Dammit!" Javert swore, sitting down. He glared at the man next to him. "Be prepared for your capture, 24601!"
The man stared blankly at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play stupid with me, Valjean! You were the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer under the name of Monsieur Madeleine! I tried to arrest you there, but you got away!" He paused. "You're very good at that." Then he shook his head. "No matter! I shall finally have you!"
The man's blank look remained. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else, monsieur..." he said, "My name is Steve Johnson. I was the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer from 1825 to 1827."
Javert stared at him.
"Yes, well... that's what you think."
"Beg your pardon, sir?"
"Oh, I don't know!" Javert put his head in his hands and began to sob. "It's just... I've been chasing this convict all over the place and I just can't capture him! I don't GET IT!" He grabbed Steve Johnson by his collar and shook him. "WHY CAN'T I CAPTURE HIM!?"
"PLEASE RELEASE THE PASSENGER, SIR," the bus driver said.
"Oh for God's sake," Javert exclaimed, tossing the poor man aside, "Leave me alone, will you?"
"WELL SIR, IT'S MY JOB TO MAINTAIN ORDER ON THIS BUS..."
"Screw order on this bus! Shut up or I'll beat you with my nightstick!"
The bus driver shut up accordingly.
Javert sat down with a huff and crossed his arms across his chest, glaring at Steve Johnson. "And you... you watch yourself," he warned the shaken ex-mayor.
It was a long ride to Paris.
~Fin~