Riding a BusA Story by Gaston Villanueva An adaptation to Waiting at a Bus Stop Only insane people get up at 5:01 am to jog. I can’t imagine a torture more acute than that, but what do I know. Maybe this guy isn’t even a jogger at all. Our bus driver closes the door and this puppy just sits on the bench “passing the time” as he calls it. What an odd fellow, a corporate watchdog of sorts. I wave at the strange human as the bus begins to move. I’m in the front row, next to the platypus-like gentleman that is our bus driver. He’s by far my third favorite driver. We’ve travelled 30 feet and have reached our maximum speed of 15 miles per hour. The radio is playing, Miles Davis, but a well-groomed hand playfully mutes the volume. It’s our tour guide, I think. “Hello, hi, what’s new at the zoo, people!” he chirps as his smile scans the room. I’m actually the only human on the bus. “Welcome everyone! I’ll be accompanying you all on today’s little misadventure that is the tour of our solar system! Call me J.J.B. and if you have any questions feel free to ask me!” J.J.B. and our driver laugh themselves to sleep and our bus heads towards grayness. Here they come, the fog. They consume us and I am spat out into a mine shaft. I notice a sign that says 1849 and see piles of golden rice cakes. The workers are wearing mining hats and business suits, not to mention they are strawberries. I admire their work ethic and how they all move to the beat of Fur Elise. A strawberry about 6 paces left of me is on his lunch break. I notice a tattoo on his arm that reads, “They have conquered us, but not our spirit.” I’d like to stay here more but I hear the honk of our bus and I climb a ladder out of the mine. I get on the bus and to my dismay, all the seats are covered in strawberry jam. I sit down regardless. I ride onward, pretending like I don’t feel the jam. I’m now wearing a business suit and my stomach has butterflies. I’ve grown a flagella also. I look around the bus and see that it is now what looks like a waiting room for a fancy corporation. I hear 2 guys talking behind me and turn around to see a couple of sperm cells. “You’re nervous too, eh?” he asks me. “No worries, we’re all anxious but hey, if we’re the final three candidates left for the position we shouldn’t be too nervous.” He laughs awkwardly. An egg cell holding a purple coffee cup struts into the room and points at me. I follow her. We begin the interview process. She asks me questions I don’t know the answers to. “Why are you the vanguard of solving human progress? If I give you the position, how will you fix the world’s social sicknesses? I’m looking for someone who will champion for the common man. Are you a passive eater? I want this baby to be asthmatic.” I don’t know how to cognify this so I leave knowing good and well I wouldn’t get the position. The bus is now empty again and I throw away my flagella. The bus continues to drive but it feels like we are being rolled up like a cinnamon roll. Thunder begins to roar and icing rains down. The windshield wipers are struggling to follow their orders and eventually succumb to the weight of goop. We pull to the side and I get out, deciding it’s better to wait in the coffee shop that appears. I go inside. It turns out not to be a coffee shop and actually a bonfire-esque environment. Idaho stands up and begins to talk. “Hi. My name is Idaho and I’ve had violetaphobia for 4 years now.” “Hi, Idaho. Welcome and you are not alone,” the group responds. I see Wisconsin amongst the states. How can Wisconsin have violetaphobia? He’s the laboratory for Democracy after all. I struggled with violetaphobia, the fear of the color purple, for like 10 minutes but I got over it by taking some time out of my day to examine the strata of my brain. My suit has turned purple and all the states begin to fearfully scream. Panic erupts for lack of a better word. Texas is crying and says he wants to sucede. California shakes and trembles as he yells 1908, 1908, 1908. It’s best I go wait in the bus for the icing to pass. Staying here is no longer possible, or desirable. The icing storm halts as I enter the bus and I chuckle at this global taunt. The sphere of influence that is my bus looks very digital and I have a craving for maple syrup. I also notice that I have acquired a fetish for learning. J.J.B. wakes up and mumbles legalization of theft. The bus slows down and I prepare to get off. J.J.B. talks to me as I step out of the bus. “Here or not, the world goes on!” I watch as the bus leaves and notice an Activia ad on the back of it. The sun is rising and I yawn. I look at my watch to dictate my next move: 5:01 am. I think I’ll go for a jog. © 2015 Gaston VillanuevaAuthor's Note
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9 Reviews  Last Updated on April 19, 2015 Tags: exploration, tour, random Author
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