Popping that Bubblegum Pink Bubble

Currently, I’m flying a bagillion miles in the air leaving Vegas where I just had my big ol’ pink head put in place. It seemed like the perfect story for the return of For the Hell of It Friday. First, let me tell y’all why I was so easily swept away. 

Before heading out to Vegas, I came home to Charleston for a few weeks. Seeing people I know everywhere I go is one of the things I miss most. 

Out and about once in Charleston, someone recognized Mizzou (she was a dog celebrity), stating that one of the people trailing her must be Muffy. Another time a woman came up to my table while out at dinner to see if I was me, I am obviously. She proclaimed me “Park Circle Royalty,” gave me a hug, and walked away without ever telling me her name. I’ve given speeches, taught seminars, and won awards that led to people approaching me in the grocery or strolling down King Street. Part of being overly active in the community. Plus how many Muffys do you really know? I’ve been told of dozens, but only ever met one and she was an “ie.”

While back in town I had my hot pink locks touched up. Sitting in the salon (which takes hours per visit), a woman between the age of my mother and grandmother asked if I was Muffy. I just happen to be her! Somewhat confused since I was in Summerville far outside my usual stomping grounds, I waited for her to fill in the blanks on how we knew each other. 
She recognized me by my pink hair and knew of my adventures because her niece follows me on Facebook. Let me tell ya, my heart swelled three times bigger than the Grinch’s when hearing the carols of Whoville. This was better than trolls! This was like a fan sighting! *fans self over the excitement of being famous*
That is why when I was lounging poolside in Vegas on one of the oversized chaise lounges and a woman approached me asking me if I was Miss Muffett sitting on my tuffet I laughed, flattered, and asked if she followed online. Yeah, no. She doesn’t. 
Feeling like a moron, I explained that my name was Muffy and since I had my highly recognizeable hair down I had thought she knew me. After all we were staying at the same hotel where I had been checking in a great deal…no, not even close. 
Not only did she have no clue who I was, she wasn’t really standing over me to get acquainted. My tuffet just happened to be where she stopped to wait for her friends who she recounted the whole event to still chilling at my tuffet. Pretty sure that put my dillusional celebrity status in check even if the Las Vegas Monorail liked my fb post. One day kiddos, one day. 
Next week, I’ll be wrapping up the summer of shows darting all around Vegas. Monday we’ll be back on track with a Muffy Monday discussing one of the top three questions I get on repeat. Doesn’t it feel good to be back?! 

What’s Going on with the FREE Car?

Glad you asked! Letters have been coming in from allover! Even as far as California! IMG_8406Huge thanks to everyone who has helped spread the word! Especially, Holy City Sinner and Michael Chatman’s #WhyIGive campaign for sharing the info. I even saw that the Salvation Army in Danville printed it out.


In order to keep it fair and impartial, I’ve got a system in place. Every letter is being read by me then sorted out. If it even hints at someone I might know or know through someone, the letter gets a second read from an individual party. It isn’t fair to exclude someone just because I know them and vice versa.

There was some concern that I would receive a bunch of heart wrenching letters and never be able to pick. Sadly, there have been some doozies…on the wrong end of the spectrum.

Come on people. You’ve got 12 kids, no home, no job, and only one arm so my car would really change your life? There is no way 12 kids would fit in my car and it’s a stick shift so you’ll probably need two arms.

Insensitive? Maybe, but man the whoppers I’m seeing. Luckily, I have a big brain to go with this big heart. All the letters that are moving on are being checked out by a third party. Just be honest guys! You don’t have to have a super sob story to get this car.

Also, in case this has not been covered enough: it is a real car. It really is a real car that I am giving away. That’s cool if you don’t believe me. I get it, it is the internet. But please, as much as I love hearing from y’all, there is no need to tell me how my FREE car is not good enough for you. Let’s keep that to yourselves.

We’ve still got a few more weeks before the April 21st deadline! There is not an exact date yet of when I’ll be announcing the winner, it is going to depend on how many letters arrive on the last day and where the winner lives. I would guess I’ll announce around the beginning of May.

If you know someone who might need a car or want to send in a letter yourself you can get all the details HERE.

Make sure to follow Muffy On the Move on Facebook, Twitter @MuffyOnTheMove, and Instagram @MuffyOnTheMove for updates. Good luck and keep the letters coming!




Everything Changes

The other night driving to dinner, I was thinking about Cuba. At the time, canceling seemed like the best thing to do. The Travel Ban was wrecking havoc and Spicer announced that they were starting to look at Cuba…let’s be honest, if only one plane in the entire world, only one person to be effected by a change in the embargo with Cuba then that person would be me. It’s my curse of good luck. 

It’s been discussed before with all of my wonderful luck comes my bad luck. I’ve been escorted home by Buckingham Palace guards, held hostage in a terminal in Germany, been asked to leave a flight in Bermuda because they thought my mother was a drug lord, debated over who had to take me between America and the Bahamas, as well as been delivered to the border by Canadian Mounties who get very upset if you ask if they’re real Mounties even though they’re not on horseback. If anyone was prime for limbo of an embargo, it is me. 

Honestly though, I think my spirit was broken. My isolation has been driving me crazy, but it’s coming round. There was so much to go through that being on the road would have pushed me over the edge or forced it all down inside of me. Back to seeing a balance, I thought about Cuba. I’ve thought about an end game, a final result. The wandering isn’t over, just maybe the living out of a carry on. Do you realize I’ve been rotating out the same 8 outfits regardless of the climate since December 4th? Poor things were getting pretty threadbare. 

You know what they say, we plan He laughs. There are loose plans in shape…mostly in the shape of a sailboat, but there’s probably a couple of continents before I unpack. It’s just silly. Cali is so close to Hawaii, Hawaii is so close to SEA, and SEA is so close to Australia…how can I not?! That should get me through hurricane season. Plenty of time for me to think of a name for a sailboat too. 

The boat isn’t the point. The point is driving the other night I thought about how sometimes your heartbreaks and your dreams change. That is exactly what had happened. Then it dawned on me that that isn’t a new thought. In fact, it is exactly how this whole thing got started in the first place. The header asks “how many miles to heal a gypsy soul?” Looks like we’re starting from zero and beginning all over again. 

For the Hell Of It: How I Afford to Travel

It is the question I get asked the most, “how do you afford to travel all the time?” Well, get ready! I’m going to tell you. And you can totally do it too. 

Be prepared, it will blow your mind. 

I have a job. 

Crazy right?!? I do this thing where I work and get paid for it. And since it’s the digital age, I can work remotely. I know. 

But, y’all really? Did you think I won the lottery? Or I’ve got a fairy travel godmother? Come on. It’s called a Digital Nomad and there’s a whole community of us. 

There are bloggers who do travel for free or get paid to do it. It didn’t just fall into their laps. Promise, they worked for it. Anyone who tries to lure you in with a hook that just like them you can travel for free is lying. Because if everyone could just do it, they would. 

How am I affording to buy a sailboat? Crazier still, rocked my side hustle. Also, crazier despite anyone having the impression I suck at this writing thing: some articles get picked up at $2 a word for 2,500 words. So if you think I suck then you can suck it because this bish is getting paid. 6-8 week lead time? Bish don’t care. Bitches getting paid. 


I just may make that my new profile pic. 

I Really Need a Calendar 

Son of a biscuit. It’s Friday. Did y’all all know it was Friday? Of course y’all did, you’re not isloated in a thawed tundra. Last week was a roller coaster of emotions thinking I was going to run on out to Charleston. Turned out, I was not. 

As a consolation prize, an old friend made the trip here. Then promptly Saturday, he left. Turns out he is this huge, mondo racist bigot. No holds barred on alternative facts and fake news. I may be starved for human interaction, but I’ll pass on the debate on the use of the N word. 

After turning in a piece (and getting paid for it!) somehow I was mentally drained. Where did all my words go? All my genius moments I get washing my hair? And I am mostly washing my hair every day! Side note, I’ve recently discovered bubble baths. Do people wash their hair in the bath? Isn’t the water already gross from you? I’m baffled. 

There was a story, a pitch, I just knew it was something that I couldn’t form. My stupid heart kept getting in the way of my words. That is supposed to be the complete opposite, by the way. Heart encourages words. 

Last night, it fell into place. Unfortunately, it was 3am when I randomly got up for the restroom. Stumbling to the office to find my notebook, it got scribbled down in the semi darkness. It just lurked on my notepad all morning and day. One starter. That’s not nearly enough. 

With a week gone, I need a whole bag of pitches ready for Monday. Shake it off brain! Shake it off! 

Then it just cleared. The void started to fill (while brushing my teeth, the usual). Bam! Like 6 solid pitch ideas! Knocked 4 of them into developed ideas with outlines! 

For the record, I brush my teeth multiple times a day every day. I have no clue why that genius moment routine has been clogged. I feel good sleep coming on with an early morning awaiting a fresh eyed and bushy tailed me. Notebook in bed beside me, ideas on the horizon. 

So yeah, it’s Friday. I forgot. I also haven’t talked to humans in weeks. I’m allowed to lose track of the days. 

Friends From Far

As I await houseguest, I started to notice a few things. 

1. I’m living like a weird hermit in the master suite. It’s probably a good thing I never moved that mini fridge in the garage in here. With the house empty, literally empty with no furniture, I haven’t ventured out of the suite much. 

2. Man, I’m lonely. I go days without seeing other humans. When I do it is something house related, not social. 

That’s why not getting to go to Charleston this weekend was so heartbreaking. Even more, I was going to have a party that I cancelled at the chance of Charleston. Work would have brought me to Charleston, but fun would have kept through the weekend. Another time.

Eventually, I’ll find a rhythm again. The loss of my grandmother, my family just in general, the return to Kentucky, pausing the adventure…it all has to settle. 

Writing as healing as it can be, it can go where you don’t want it to go. You can’t avoid it though. The words rattle around in your head, compose themselves in your sleep, on the edges of your thoughts. There isn’t rest until it’s gone. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get this last article out. Everything else had to move out of the way. 

I’m just emotionally spent. Word exhausted. Thrilled to have company, to do normal things like talk to a human in person for more than 5 minutes not about flooring. And oh my God, we’ll go out to eat at a restaurant! Maybe a movie. Human interaction. Ah, I can’t wait. 

Sarah the Bitch with an H: Let Me Tell You a Story

*NOTE: super spotty service, drafts/publishing issues. Will find better service and double check everything**

Where I’m from rain is a good thing. Now, Sarah the Bitch with an H, your comment on For the Hell Friday:What the Hell Am I Doing came at just the right moment. We’ll get to that in a minute though.

For those of you just joining, this isn’t Sarah the Bitch with the H’s first appearance. She commented on the post that changed everything, Time to Live Up to the Name. I was sad. I was hurt. My whole world had been torn apart.

Sarah the Bitch with an H  commented I was mentally ill and needed help. Since then she has become a measurement for various things, usually in marking something I don’t care for much.

Who could she be? We were all aghast. Saras I know were quick to point out that their names don’t have an H. Sarah’s with an H needed me to know that it wasn’t them. Many, and I mean many, guessed a particular SWF I used to know. So many people guessed that particular person that I almost felt sorry for her. For that many people to assume you’re that terrible.

What’s important about this is that during my life upheaval, I wasn’t pushing the blog. Only people who knew me knew where to find it. That means, Sarah the Bitch with an H, is probably someone I know. Does it make this bitch insightful on all things Muffy or is she just Hector the Projector?

The first encounter, I could have been better. Still, not too bad off the cuff. Even made my typo witty! It was/should also be pointed out that the very next post was titled ”To Put It In Perspective, I Need Your Help” and it was absolutely published before her comment was made. I guess my troll just isn’t very dedicated. Don’t worry dear readers, I am dedicated to my troll! Let’s explore Sarah the Bitch with an H’s latest comment. Then! Then! I’ll delve into my point and how this is perfect timing!

1.  I am not running. I  hate running. Noah from Moore On Runners tried and tried. Nope. Not happening. Fun fact, I did run once! Exactly one time. I ran Cincinnati Flying Pig Half Marathon IN A FLASH FLOOD. If you ever go to Cinci and you see all those bridges and hills, I ran across all of them! Double fun fact, if you only run one race your current time is always your own personal best!

Now if I were out here running, I think we can all agree that I am out here running towards something, not from it. What a closed minded perspective.

2. Working hard always gets you what you want. That’s a nice sentiment. Just ignore nepotism, that it’s all in who you know, all those people who bust their tail and still never get there. Of course, The Stones telling you that you don’t always get what you want, you get what you need.

I do work. I work really hard. There was a lot of hard work and sacrifice to get here. Even out here, I’m still working hard. Even harder. I have my “day job” and my own personal hustle. Travel blogger, freelance writer; these things take work. Did I mention I want to write a book one day?!

3. Disney World. Walt Disney World is in Florida. Walt Disney Land is in California. Thanks for the read, but if we are keeping count it wasn’t one of my first posts (they are called “posts” by the way or “blog posts.” The whole website is the blog. It would be exhausting and counterproductive to make a new blog every time I wrote). Depending on which Travel Tip Tuesday you’re referring to it was either post #66 or #64.

4. I own my car, just FYI. It is in storage, but I own that baby! I’ve actually got very little debt. That’s one of the sacrifices I mentioned. Along the way, I sacrificed things and spending to avoid debt. Sometimes it was hard work! (see #3)

5. No, you don’t know my family. I go through various blocking routines every other month so I’m not the person to get you in touch. But who the fuck do you think you are? “Willing to accept me?” Yeah, they have. They do. It is me that chooses not to be involved with them. I may talk about them, I restrain from sharing the screenshots of word nausea. This is my freethinking narrative, I get to talk all about what I want without having to prove my feelings. That’s the beauty of a personal blog!

6. It’s “yourself,” one word.

7. You don’t need a comma before “and.” That’s my opinion though. I’m assuming you were weren’t using it as a coordinating conjunction. It seems like you were stating two descriptions. Who knows though. I don’t know you, just taking a guess based on your writing and typos. Happens to the best of us, that’s why I have an editor for anything outside on the blog!

8. Words written don’t make it true. Nope. But it is my story and I can use whatever words I want!

9. Good luck to me? Is that, hope upon hope, this is the end of you? So long, farewell…

Let’s head for the point, shall we? I had said that this was perfect timing.

Not only did the alert of your comment come right as I finished my work for the day (yep, work! See #3), it also showed up after some self reflection. That’s not that big of a deal, solo travel comes with a lot of self reflection.

Do you know my most hated phrase? “It is what it is.” I hate it and I truly mean hate. We have freewill! Nothing is ever just what it is. There are always options, those options just may not be the ones you want to take.

Just recently, I had a situation that I really needed to get out of that I have put myself in. What no one ever seems to consider is that maybe your “situation” is a result of leaving another situation. Frankly, you are always going to be in some sort of situation or another. I digress.

My arrangements started to form a cage, a pretty cage; a cage nonetheless. Tracker apps, exercise mandates, vitamin regimes, unspoken curfews, and no access to the keys or codes to let me out of the gate. All for my well being? Sure, only it should be of my choosing not by that of a mother hen turned hawk.

As the bars of my cage began to form, my concerns formed right alongside them.

 This is where things went sideways.

Mother Hawk told me I was dishonest and deceitful. “Ask anyone who knows you. Everyone knows you bring drama. Everyone,” she says. Yes, it was that dramatic and traumatic, so much so that I remembered it verbatim until I could write it down. Now I have put myself in this situation and I was sure as hell going to get myself out.

Yes, Sarah the Bitch with an H, it is only my side of the story and not even all of it. Let’s just say I know I wasn’t the crazy in the situation because I was not the one peeing in a cup while hiding in the bathroom. For now, my ruling will have to stand.

Words were said, insults lobbed out. I go out of my way to be a better person; to live my life to avoid that type of adjectives. Long ago, someone called me horrible things such as those, hurling off insult after insult.

Insults are like gambling. You have to quit while you are ahead. Except the tormentor enjoys the rush too much and goes all in. They’ll go for a real zinger as their grand finale. Only the insult  is too big and you’ll see the cracks in the lie. Long ago, it was that if my own father didn’t love me how could anyone else. Not really a loss for me, but obvious flaws. In the sideways situation, it was that everyone who knows me, you could ask anyone…well, that loses it’s power when your sample size is only 3; all your children by birth or marriage.

Unfounded or not, insults still leave a mark. Every insult gets my attention as I worry over if I’ve been good enough. I tally my flaws, list each time I could have been a better friend, a better human. I like to think I’m quick to own my mistakes and genuine with my apologies. When you’re told you’re no good, you get real good at evaluating. I’ve had tons of therapy where I picked that up. For every death, divorce, move, transfer, or change my family could think of I got sent to the shrink. Sometimes short stints, sometimes long ones.

Every therapist I’ve ever seen has told me two things. First, I should be way more fucked up. God love Dr. Lamb for actually saying “fucked.” I am way more balanced than I should be (go me for adaptation). Second, their original concern was that I created drama my life. After many a sessions, they all tell me they don’t think it is me. Somehow it just finds me. True story.

These situations or times that have gone sideways seem to happen to me more than most. It is something I have given a great deal of thought about and it is me.

You see, I’ve been living by the same instructions I was told on my first day of school, “go make friends!” I just never stopped.  How many friends do you have? Maybe a hundred? Maybe two? I have thousands, adding more every day. Not a single one of them do I not think I could call upon right this moment for a chat. Don’t believe me? Look at this adventure. Look at the map with all the names.

My life is bigger than most, my adventure grander. It has always been this way. When it comes to the equation of life mine has more drama because the sample size is larger. But so is the happiness, the moments, the memories, the experiences, the people. I’ve opened myself up to all of these situations, good or bad, and I get myself out when need be.

It all becomes part of my story. My story. Fortunately, I’m a storyteller. All of it folds in. Sad, happy, good, bad, great, ridiculous, funny, outrageous – all of it. Every person. Every place. Every experience. All of it.

This is my story for me to tell. That’s what I am putting into the universe. Sarah, the Bitch with an H, stop and listen to my tales or go on along your way. As before, if you’re someone I know I’d like to not know you anymore. Don’t you worry, I’ve asked the universe to let me know.


On the topic of not knowing anymore: I have no delusions that Mother Hawk and her flock will see this, just as I have no delusions that our friendships would have survived. Families first, little birds. I’ve disrupted your nest, for that we should steer clear of each other. The lose of your 3 friendships saddens me, one of them more than the rest. One of your Mother Hawk touted you as echoing her sentiments. If that is only half of the story then at the very least you didn’t disuade them. I am neither dishonest nor deceitful, I won’t be called them nor will have people in my life who think me capable. I tell you this with a pure heart, I hope you are never shattered to your core, that there never comes a time where you need to take personal stock. If ever a time does come, remember that moment when you ask yourself if there was ever a time I could have been a better friend.

All 3 little birds, I forgive your silence or your words. From here now, let’s have only silence from your nest.

Now out of my pretty cage, I have no desire to return either in person or in words. Your feathers will conceal you as long as you wish. There is no more of your story I need to tell. After all, it is only fair I only tell my story and not yours.

For the Hell of It Friday: Leaping into Stunting

We’re just going to start with me openly admitting I have a mega fan girl crush on Coach Colene. I was in awe of her and her brother back in high school. They were forensics super stars. If you walked into a round and saw them there, just kiss that round goodbye. The thing was, they were so good you didn’t care that they had just kicked your ass. They were unstoppable and that has carried on into their adult life, which is why I can’t believe I’m sharing this next part…

In high school, Colene had these really long nails. One weekend, we were both waiting for our event to start and I randomly blurted out “how do you pick your nose?” Catching myself just a little too late, I tried to cover with “I mean, you probably don’t…” It did not make us fast friends. I seriously doubt she even remembers me from school (we didn’t go to the same school, just competed against each other. Okay, they competed. I kind of just showed up). I would be mortified if she even remembered. Just goes to show somethings never change, like how I’ve always been adorably awkward.

Back then we didn’t have social media so she couldn’t block the weirdo booger girl. Here’s hoping she doesn’t read this and remedy that now…

Anyways…with the new year approaching and New Year’s Resolutions on everyone’s minds, Life Coach Colene is gearing up for Vision 2017 7 Day Challenge. It’s a free online workshop. Coach Colene says it’s her gift to us because “we deserve this and so much more” (I know, gush!). This isn’t a shameless plug, though all of Coach Colene’s info and Vision 2017 link are down at the end.

Please, if I’m worried about her getting a restraining order do you think she would have recruited me to blog about her? I tell you all this because I’m using her posts for the lead up to my point. There’s always a point, it just takes a hot minute of storytelling!

All of her posts leading up to 2017 had me give myself a double hollar. The first hollar was for the cussing. Rounding off the year, preparing for next year, I am ahead of the curve.

If I didn’t give it all I had, I wouldn’t have made it.
You only get one free carry on and there’s no way I’m paying extra to carry around extra shiz.
I’m just going to pretend this says “Don’t sleep on the bus.” Check! 
Whether this is a typo and should say “in a tent” or actually “intent,” done and done.
This. This one is the most. It was scary, it was hard. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t and I don’t regret it for a single minute.



When Coach Colene posted:

Time to start getting ready to ringimg_6561 in the new year. Before we pop the champagne, I like to reflect on the year before. So let’s start with something simple: What is one thing 2016 taught you?

For me it was the importance of asking for what I want and need. I’m a woman who tends to think I can do it all, but I don’t know everything (nor do I need to) and I shouldn’t waste my energy trying to do everything. What can I do that’s providing the most value? Then I can ask others for help. It’s not a sign of weakness, but a sign of self-awareness and strength.
Ask for what you need/want/desire.
What about you?

I answered that I plan, God laughs. Just because it was for everyone else doesn’t mean it was for me. Which Coach Colene liked, by the way!

There has been so much change, all of this self awareness to lead me here. This courage has always been a part of me, I don’t think anyone was really that surprised when I set out on this adventure. Yet with all of this somehow my confidence stalled.

Yesterday, I put it out to my friends that in this crazy world I had surprisingly come across a situation where I was going to have to take a leap. Being my biggest support group, I called out for positive thoughts, good vibes, and to send some prayers upstairs for me. I didn’t need to succeed, I just needed to not lose my nerve.

With the exception of Michael who seemed to have designs on me failing at skydiving, they didn’t fail me.

I woke up this morning ready!15726670_10211082795763470_2094627485154829257_nI pushed down those nerves thinking of Jill, telling my heart not to bother whispering. Let’s shout.

Today, I submitted my first real deal pitch to a real deal publication. I’m not quite sure why that terrified me so much. I’ve been published, I’ve had bylines. More than one occasion I have swept a news cycle. I have been a big fish in a big pond. Lacking in confidence just isn’t been something I do.

Why be terrified now? The answer escapes me. This is the beginning. This is how it starts. Arizona had always been laid out as the turning point. Now it is here. The deadlines I gave myself to make this work are looming.

Then it all clicked.

I am not out of my league, I am in my element.

There can’t be a deadline to fail or succeed before I pack it all in and go back home. There can’t be a deadline because I’m not going to stop doing this until I make it.

Saying it’s the img_6507Year of Muffy just always seems to be a curse upon myself. We’ll banish that hashtag for forever. For 2017, I’m going to stunt so hard that I’ll never be able to question I was doing it any other way.

F*ck 2016, I’m through with you.





To form your own fan girl crush on the genius that is Coach Colene you can find her at the following places:

Coach Colene Website (I highly encourage the Monday Motivation emails)

Vision 2017 – 7 Day Challenge

Coach Colene Facebook

Coach Colene Instagram

Coach Colene Twitter

Coach Colene YouTube

‘Twas the Bus To Arizona: 140 Characters at a Time

When you’re nothing left to do, you tweet a Christmas love affair to Greyhound’s PR. 

Twas the bus to Arizona, when all thro’ the bus, Not a creature was stirring, not even the guy on his device. 

The luggage was stowed away with care, in hopes that Arizona would soon be here;
The passengers were nestled all snug in their seats,

While visions of clear highways danced in their heads. 

The guy in the seat next to me with his headphones on and me I my headlamp, 
Had just settled our brains for a long night of traveling—‌
When in the row behind me there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my seat to see what was the matter.

Away to the aisle I flew like a flash,
Tore off my sleeping mask and threw the book from my lap

The glow of the hazard lights,
Gave the illusion that this ride will never end;

When, what to my wondering ears should appear,

But the driver on the speaker, and eight tiny decrees,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment this nonsense would end quick.

More rapid than eagles his lessons they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them out by name:

“No leaving your seats! No smoking! No Alcohol or drugs! No loud phone calls! No talking to the driver! No disturbing the others! No bothering the rest!”

“To the back of the bus! To the front of the seats! Wear your headphones! Wear your headphones! Wear your headphones all!”

As quick as the carry ons are grabbed when you arrive, the phone call that was too loud, 

Went silent from the behind;

So on went the Greyhound on down the road, the wheels rolled on, the miles how they flew,

With the bus full of riders—‌and a stern driver too:

And then in a twinkling, I heard from the seat just to the rear an apology and an excuse me” from a very meek little voice. 

As I drew in my coat, and was turning around,

Down went the phone without even a sound. 

He was sorry he’d disrupted us from his head to his foot. And his face was tarnished with embarrassment and guilt;
A bundle of texts began to flow from his hands, 
And not another word was spoken from that loud little man:

His screen—‌how it twinkled! His silence: how merry,

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the silhouette of his face showed the phone’s soft glow; 

The buds of a headset he tucked tight in his ears,
And the conversation held encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a foul mouth, and a little round belly

That shook when we hit bumps, like a bowl full of jelly:

He was cursing and rude, not at all like an elf,

And I laugh’d when he was hushed in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not another word, but went straight to his chat,

And finished that convo without being a brat,
And laying his finger aside to the volume of his phone

And giving a nod, not another word arose.

He stayed in his seat, the rest of us he acknowledged,

And away the bus flew, with the speed of a greyhound:
But I heard him exclaim, ere we drove out of sight 

No more eavesdropping you bitches, and to all **** ** ***.