Glass House

My world is weirder than your world.

Friday, December 24, 2004

Bus.

Confirmed. Greyhound still not my friend. I caught the early early bus, hoping it would be nearly empty, but no such luck. Only a few empty rows to sneak a seat.

One family had a six-year-old kid who claimed the entire bus as his territory. He bounced around between all the empty seats, and ran smack into me before I could slide down. He recoiled, confused.

This happens occasionally. Kids are usually the easiest to handle. I leaned in close and whispered into his ear, "Don't tell anyone."

Eyes wide: "Are you a ghost?"

This kid was way ahead of me. I went into my dramatic mode. "Yeesss. I am the ghooost of Rolling Ronnie the bus driver, doomed to roll on these highways for eterrrnity."

"Why?"

"Promissse not to telll anyone?"

"Maybe," the kid said. He was fascinated, but not about to close off bragging rights. I was tempted to argue the point, but it didn't really matter.

"I ussed to drive a schoool buss," I whispered. "One morning I picked up the kidss. But I didn't take them to schoool. I droove them to the swimming poool."

"Cool!" the kid said.

"No. Verrry hot. For I had lit a fiiire under the poool. And put in some potaaatoes, some carrrots and some orrrregano." (Was I overdoing it? Yeah. I wad overdoing it.) "I drooove the busss right into the pooool. I jumped out jusst in time, but the kids were made into soooup."

"Why'd you do that?" the kid asked. His voice was as quiet as mine.

"Sooo I could EAT them!"

The kid screamed and ran back to his parents. "Mommy there's a ghost in that chair over there and he says he rode a bus and he used to eat kids in a pool!"

The mother looked around, severely embarrassed, and hushed the child. He tried to explain -- I heard an outburst of "Potatoes!" -- but that clearly wasn't going anywhere.

After that I was able to sleep for most of the trip.

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