There were days the Man really regretted using public transportation. Last week it had been the furry in the bad jizz-encrusted pig suit and a leather harness, before that it was the 800-pound gorilla that wanted to use the entryway as a pole-dancing stage, much to the dismay of the passengers on the bus. But he really couldn't go anywhere else, this was one of the few places he could carry a briefcase full of cocaine and not get searched. No one checked the wrecks of humanity on The Bus, why would they? The Man settled into his seat, thankful for the oilcloth coat he wore, keeping the unknown stains on the seat away. He could hear the apple thing still gargling unintelligible words behind him, and someone up front was clucking like a chicken. One more sale, he thought, and I can leave this place forever.
[very nice! this is why I started this sub... creative beginnings to so many worlds... what is The Bus? who is The Man? is how we react]
I'm not sure what they are right now. I'll think about that and if I can come up with something I'll add it to the story.
no worries not asking for more necessarily... just musing that it's decent writing that gets us curious!
(post is archived)