Finding a taxi in New Bork City is like winning the lottery. No, they are not rare or hard to find, but there are so many lotteries going on around New Bork that you will almost certainly win if you just get a ticket and, just like the taxis, what you end up with is yellow and often disappointing.
This is exactly the kind of situation Thaught was in at that point. Holding a big white box containing a baker’s dozen of donuts on her left hand and a lottery ticket that apparently had just been announced to be a winning one on her right. But unable to find a taxi to save her life. Or to just go to work.
Again, it's not that there were no taxis around, you could find plenty. But none of them would stop for Thaught. The taxi is part of the driver's soul and the moment you decide to become a taxi driver is the moment your life will never be the same again. Half of your soul, consciousness and identity get transferred to a five-to-ten-year-old four-wheeled vehicle manufactured by a foreign but fairly reliable brand.
Hopefully, it will get transferred to your own five-to-ten-year-old four-wheeled vehicle manufactured by a foreign but fairly reliable brand, otherwise things might get awkward. There once was a man who stepped into the driver's seat of a taxi, just to see how it feels, and, even though it was not his own taxi and he only hopped in to test some things out, the process began and half of his soul and consciousness ended up in this taxi that was not his own.
Ever since that day, a stranger is driving half of himself around town, with no worry about how the man trapped in his taxi is feeling. “It is a peculiar feeling but it can be oddly satisfying at times” says the man in his autobiography, which you can find in most bookstores, online and a few select pharmacies.
It thus makes sense to not want your taxi, a part of your soul, smeared with blue raspberry jam and sprinkles. Therefore, all taxi drivers would speed up when they saw Thaught signaling them to stop, which resulted in fifty percent of them being stopped and getting a ticket for speeding, thirty-five percent of them bumping on the car stopped in the red traffic lights in front of them and fifteen percent actually getting away with no consequences other than a bad feeling in their stomach, heart and soul.
Thaught got fed up with it after a while. She needed to get to work in approximately twelve minutes and three quarters, so she took the matter in her own hands.
“It will still be a normal dozen, no one will ever know,” she said, as she picked up a donut from her box. She took a bite and then channeled her inner baseball pitcher. “Calm... steady... breathe in... start from your shoulder... and unleash the demon!”
She threw the donut like a curveball, avoiding an old lady that was walking back from the grocery store and going straight through the window of a moving taxi, hitting the driver in the face, making him lose control, steer to the left and land on a fire hydrant.
“All these years of unwanted baseball practice finally paid off. Thanks dad,” she said and got into the back seat of the taxi. “To Jacobsburg! And please hurry. You can keep the donut if we make it there in five minutes, otherwise, I would like to have it back; it was delicious.”
“You are the one who threw this at me?” said the driver, pointing at the donut which had perfectly landed on the carton box, next to his cup of coffee. A pairing made in heaven, according to some people. Something that is better off burning in hell, according to others. Or, just a coffee and a donut according to some heretics.
“And I will have it back if we don't make it in time; it's four and a half minutes now.”
“Are you crazy!?” the driver responded, turning his head back to look at Thaught and straining his neck in the process, making a loud *crack*. “You could have killed me!”
“But I didn't, did I? You are still here. Relax, have a bite of that donut and let's go. Don't worry, it's not really blueberry, it's coloured chocolate filling; the baker has a thing for painting things blue.”
The driver knew that there was no point in continuing the conversation. Thaught did not seem like a person you could rationally talk to, let alone argue with, so he accepted his defeat and turned back around. He let a long, emphatic sigh to make sure that Thaught understood he did not appreciate the situation she got him into and he was not exactly fond of her, but Thaught was too busy examining the rest of the donuts.
The driver started the engine, started the radio, started driving to Jacobsburg and started thinking what went wrong and he ended up in his current situation. "It will be seven dollars for the whole ride".
"That donut cost ten dollars. You can keep the change, no need to thank me, my child," Thaught answered, lifting her head up high as she thought her action was of outmost grace and generosity.
"What are you talking about?" the taxi driver growled as he started losing his patience. "You can't pay in donuts". He had a feeling about where this was going, other than Jacobsburg, so he put his right hand on the handbrake, which resembled a hot dog more than anyone would expect or appreciate, especially when it comes to the smell.
"So you are a muffin guy," said Thaught looking at the driver with a look that combined pity, but also extreme superiority.
To Thaught, saying that you prefer muffins over donuts was the most illogical things one could say to her and firmly believed that this phrase alone should be enough to earn you a place in a mental asylum.
"Look, I get it, muffins can be great, sometimes delicious even. I once had an avocado chocolate carrot muffin, and it was terrible. But after that, I had a triple chocolate one, and that was pretty nice. But a muffin can never surpass a donut. It would defy the fundamental laws of this world."
"I am not a muffin guy!" said the taxi driver, now gripping the steering wheel with all his might in an attempt to keep his composure, making small dents shaped like his abnormally thick fingers on it. "I am a money guy! Specifically dollars! specifically cash in the exact amount I requested, so I don't need to give you back change. I can, and will, try to fool you out of a few dollars if you make me bother with change and receipts and all that nonsense."
Thaught opened the taxi's window, got her head out and pointed at a random person wearing a beige trench coat walking on the sidewalk in the opposite direction. "Put it on this guy's tab".
That person happened to be an undercover criminal that was part of the 'top ten most wanted' in the wanted list of most countries. He noticed Thaught pointing at him but could not figure out what she said. He was amazed by her ability to find and recognize him even though he was hiding his identity and Thaught was inside a moving vehicle. He threw a smoke bomb to the ground, enabling him to escape with no one knowing his direction, while he made a mental note to find and eliminate Thaught and a written note to buy more smoke bombs since he was running out and there were rumors of an upcoming shortage.
"Nevermind," Thaught continued, "he's probably broke too. Put it on this one's tab," she said as she pointed at another person who was doing laundry on a balcony.
This happened to be the same exact criminal she pointed at previously, who was now trying to blend in with the people and the city so that Thaught would lose him. He threw another smoke bomb and again vanished before the smoke cleared out. "Wow, they put an interesting agent on my case this time. Well played, government... well played," he mumbled to himself, "And I really need to buy more smoke bombs."
"What is wrong with this city and smoke bombs?" Thaught wondered, "I'm trying to transfer my debt to you, stop hiding! Anyway, thanks for bringing me here," she continued, taking seven dollars out of her jacket and handing them to the driver. "It took a bit too long, but you can still keep the donut as a symbol of our friendship."
She hopped out of the car and walked a couple of steps before turning back, picking up the donut through the window, having another big bite and leaving the now-less-than-half donut next to the taxi driver's coffee.
"A delicious symbol," she said and walked away.
