Bus stop, Bus goes.

Bus stop, Bus goes. Bus stop, Bus goes.

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Short story of bitter ends and new beginings

Summary

Short story of bitter ends and new beginings

Content

Submitted: June 16, 2011

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Content

Submitted: June 16, 2011

A A A

A A A


Bus Stop, Bus goes
By bl woolsey
“Well maybe he didn’t leave cause he wants to make it work.” She said as the blur of the outside world flew by the window of the bus and she looked into her friends glazed eyes. “You know he stuck around because he wanted too , and besides Brenda said he is a cheat and a thief.” She smiled flatly and looked forward. “You don’t want to be with a cheat do you, it’s no good.”
I sat in front of them and listened as the hum of the bus rattled and dipped over potholes and the blur outside the window came to a rest at a red light. I was only on the bus to get to some coffee shop where I could get cheap tea and watch from the corner of the room at chess players and look out the window at crusties and their dogs. “Yeah, but I don’t see him not being in my life; it is just so lonely and I long for that companionship.” The girl closest to the window said lowly and her head slowly pressed itself against the window like she was trying to push herself out into those rolling green hills and into the muck of the bay. “It will pass, it just takes time to heal those wounds and scab those memories.”

“That’s a disgusting metaphor Betty,” The girl said, slightly muffled by the window. “I feel like puking.”

I gota txt message that said “FWD: FWD: SND THIS MESSAGE TO TEN PEOPLE and U WILL FIND LOVE in 3 DAYS, BUT IF YOU DNT YOU WILL DIE ALONE” Then a picture of a small brown teddy bear hugging a big red heart showed up and some horrible 32 bit song came on and heads and eyes turned to me and I scoffed and shook the phone a bit and shrugged my shoulders as if it was a big joke. Just then a man with a bandana covering his face jumped on the bus, paid the fare and sat down. He held a mysterious look to him not only because he was wearing a black bandana like some train robber out of a silent sepia film but because he seemed calm and relaxed to the point that he let his feet melt into the aisle.

“Well he wants me too met him tonight at first Friday.” The broken hearted mage spoke softly and the bright splinter of sunlight splashed across her soft lily cheeks and she looked to Betty for a response. But Betty was now focused on the mysterious man in front of her sitting sideways and spilling his blue jeans and black boots into the aisle cloaked in a black bandana around his mug. “What should I do?”

“Go with your heart Fanny, but remember that your heart is the only thing that can break and create memories that makes you replay them even if you don’t want any recollection of the whole entire thing.” Betty said in almost a weird automatic response still all focus concentrated on the man with the bandana. Fanny sighed, “I set myself up for this from the get go.” Her eyes wandered and she paid no more attention to Betty or anything on the bus, just threw her mind out into the passing marsh.

I looked out the window with her and in my minds eye I could see her dancing atop the grass and floating with the bus as one, projected images of her in a cotton white wedding dress surrounded by willows and blue skies. I could see her in the fields of poetry illuminated by the brightest star in the galaxy and spinning freely in the warm dry grass where she lies down and closes her eyes and sees red and yellow and orange and is warmed by the sun.

“See that game last night?”

“Got their asses handed to ‘em didn’t ther.”

“I thought they had it at the end.”

“HA! Until Brutus choked and threw the interception.”
“Yeah, Smith picked it off and ran it back 90 yards putting em up by two.”

“Reminded me of back in 78 at the Tea Bowl when Miles McCalister picked off the fake punt pass and ran it back in the ice, 23 degree weather and scored the tee dee.”

“I remember that man, shit that was ages ago. I was a pup then, living out in Albany Oregon.”
“Oh yeah? I’ve got family up there.”

“You know what , I had a girlfriend who wanted me to kiss her where it smells.”

“That right?”

“Yeah, so I took her to Albany.”

The two old men started laughing ridiculously and it broke Betty’s concentration on the bandana man and I smiled crookedly and watched as they rolled in gut chuckles and hopeless Fanny still danced atop the ever moving landscape out side her window.
I looked at my phone and the time said 2:41pm and I had a new voice mail, which was strange because my phone hadn’t rang, or at least I didn’t feel it, must have been a service problem. Just then the man with the bandana stood up and yelled out,

“ALRIGHT! Nobody be a hero, I want all yo shit! All of it! Purses, wallets, watches, jewelry and cash! Put it in the bag and nobody has to get hurt!” He was dead serious, and the piercing look in his eye reflected the pain and misery that surrounded his existence and the projected fear and distrust in everyone on the bus was his.
Suddenly a bigger man stood up behind the masked robber, he looked as if he were going to lunge but instead he spoke.

“What do you think this is man, the wild fucking west? You think your gunna get away with this shit? Are you fucking insane?”

The bandana bandit reached into his coat and pulled out a small snub nose .22 and stared a hole through the hero’s heart that sunk to the pits of his stomach where his pubis bone was.

‘I don’t like your tone that well, and the first thing I said was no hero’s.” The bandit held in one hand his pillow case that by now was a quarter full with ipods, wallets, purses and my cell phone and in his other hand he brandished the .22 pointed directly for the gut of the man.

“All I want is to have everything you love for my own, in all actuality you don’t need any of this shit, so just sit down you old bastard and let me do what destiny has set before me.” The hero sat down mumbling something about fate and the bandit felt confident, he turned around and put the bag out to the girls behind me. Betty looked up at him and said she didn’t have nothing and that they were on their way to see her nephew and neice and sister and that they didn’t want any trouble and to please just move on. And Fanny looked up into the familiar mysterious eyes of the bandit and she said softly. “Billy?”

Just then the hero lunged from in front of the bus and charged at the bandit with wild fire in his eyes and no thought in his mind besides stopping him, just as he clipped the skinny bandit the gun shot went off and the window was shattered and the scream of bloody Betty pierced through the cosmos at the sight of her broken hearted friend dead.
The hero began pummeling the bandit and it turned out he was young and had been up for days trying to figure out where his heart was and how badly he needed her again and why the struggling track and field game of life seemed to drop shot-puts on his heart and javelins in his minds eye.
And the kid went to shoot himself at the last minute and the bullet went through the roof of his mouth and out the cerebellum where it lodged into the hero’s heart and suddenly the bright white flashes and screaming sirens of society and pain and misery all surrounded the scene and bloody Betty with her eyes wide shut and madness in her veins and hoarse voice of screaming into the wind and crying till she was dehydrated and felt the world on her shoulders and their comforting smiles and kind eyes and only known the one sided experience of all stories told to you, hurt.
And I couldn’t believe, like some wild night of gambling and drinking, I made it to the coffee shop but the vibe was off and I felt like death and the chess players were cleaning up the pieces and the vagabonds had no dogs and the idea of following a heart seemed like freedom, so I jumped on a train and figured I’d go find my story.


© Copyright 2018 bl woolsey. All rights reserved.

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