Stig's bladder was easing off a bit and he was just getting comfy when the bus suddenly ground to a halt, its doors hissing open. A young man stepped aboard; his face adorned with lots of little metallic appendages and his hair a brilliant shade of green. He was rigged from head to toe in studded leather and was joined by two young women, both rough looking, clad in tasselled vinyl jackets and stripy leggings, their make-up deliberately garish and repellent. Stig arrogantly assumed the trio were all around his age before distinctly hearing them ask for child-returns. He prayed they wouldn't come over, immediately regretting his decision to plonk himself near the back; after all, the back was where the troublemakers sat, the agitators, people who're never content with keeping themselves to themselves. The teenagers he had waited with at the bus stop regarded the green haired lad with humorous disbelief as he skulked up the aisle; the clerks were indifferent and the nutter kept to himself, his mumbling unfazed. The midget turned to the window, gazing out into the dusky twilight. They were parked outside a nondescript electronics emporium with an unexciting window display of over a dozen portable tellies. While he stared at them Stig could sense the green haired lad's presence as the youth assuredly sprawled himself out at the back, his cohorts swiftly joining him, and the midget couldn’t resist sneaking a peak as they trailed past. The first girl had bright pink hair worn in an affectedly boyish style while her friend was clearly an unabashed proponent of the emerging goth scene - her jet black locks put Stig in mind of his Mistress, and he could almost hear the whoosh of the paddle as he briefly regarded the girl's gaunt and pallid features. They both glared back before slumping down in the seats directly behind, and Stig was surprised that mean-spirited sod of a bus driver hadn't grilled them over their age, for they looked many years older than sixteen. He returned to the emporium, aimlessly endeavouring to ascertain the object of the inane game show of which the entire display was silently transmitting. While he was doing this he felt the thrust of knees jamming rudely into the back of his seat, his Pampers hissing with every bony shove, making a sound redolent of a grotesquely distended bin bag being slung into the back of a refuse truck. The bus started up and Stig felt his bladder assume its habitual disposition.