Too Busy?

[-Carlos-]

I open my WP, and just typed away. I feel that it is a bit too busy. What do you think. Remember, be constructive. And remember, that I typed this in one passing so there will be errors. Thanks!

Bus 382

If I were to crack an egg on the sidewalk, Patti thought, it would fry on contact. The paper foretold more smoldering heat throughout the state and Patti’s dry lips crooked as a bead trickled down the side of her face. Oh my lord, she muttered to herself, will this unbearable spell ever end?

Patti felt like a statue, or more apt, a useless scarecrow with listless ravens atop her hey stuffed sleeves, as she stood by the bus bench. The two regulars sitting on the bench, as usual, spoke to each other in an undertone so as to deafen their voices, I am not at all allow to listen to their precious words…hmm, not me, not the phantom rider of bus 382, Patti’s thoughts raced.

Patti shifted her eyes with concern. Her boss was a stringent and verbally harsh tamer of subordinates and tardiness meant a battery of coarse expletives. Taking one very deep breath she mustered the courage to ask the two plank- perched lilies the time- for the bus seemed unusually late this morning. The lady furthest from her ceased her whispering jabber and looked away while the other one, a thin face of rigid stone, forced a faint smile before meeting Patti’s bleary look and answered, It’s a quarter past twelve, she said. Patti returned a civil smile as she relaxed her stiffness for the bus, to her relief, was not late at all. Maybe it was the heat that brought on her anxiety; thank the lord, she sighed.

That's all did. I might finish it after your comments. Thanks again.

 

[-Carlos-]

Sorry, I just adjusted the grammar (below). When I write my thoughts down initially, I don't worry about that stuff. I fixed them to the best of my ability (below). Thanks.

If I were to crack an egg on the sidewalk, Patti thought, it would fry on contact. The paper foretold of more smoldering heat throughout the state; Patti’s dry lips crooked as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. Oh my lord, she muttered to herself, will this unbearable spell ever end?

Patti felt like a statue -- or more apt -- a useless scarecrow with listless ravens atop her hay stuffed sleeves, as she stood by the bus bench. The two regulars sitting on the bench as usual, spoke to each other in an undertone so as to deafen their voices. I am not at all allow to listen to their precious words…hmm, not me, not the phantom rider of bus 382, Patti’s thoughts raced.

Patti shifted her eyes with concern. Her boss was a stringent and verbally harsh tamer of subordinates and tardiness meant a battery of coarse expletives. Taking one very deep breath she mustered the courage to ask the two plank- perched lilies the time- for the bus seemed unusually late this morning. The lady furthest from her ceased her whispering jabber and looked away while the other one, a thin face of rigid stone, forced a faint smile before meeting Patti’s bleary look and answered, It’s a quarter past twelve, she said. Patti returned a civil smile as she relaxed her stiffness for the bus, to her relief, was not late at all. Maybe it was the heat that brought on her anxiety; thank the lord, she sighed.

 

[WriterJohnB]

Not busy at all, I think. But not long enough to crit for more than SPAG. Listen should be listened. Her boss was a stringent, blustering buffoon. Hope that helps.

JohnB