I am a wild beast, stalking my ever- elusive prey. The humans, my beneficiaries and yet my competetors, come and go from this spot alot, and that is why I am here. I eat what they leave behind, the crumbs and drops of hunger- stoppers. Right now, I am waiting for a very sloppy group of humans to leave their table ungaurded. By my calculations, their leftovers will be enough for me untill the orange day begins to fade. I flutter in as they stagger out, and begin feasting... That is, untill I see a huge bus at the stopcolors. This starts me down memory lane, as my  creator was hit by a big yellow one. Inside, there are all maner of people, but I only get a glimpse of them. As fast as it had appeared, the bus drove out of my life forever. The only reason this experience was special to me is of the feeling I got as it passed by, like a flutter of extra-reality that messed with my mind. Now, I feel like everything is a fabrication, that every move I make is narrarated closely.......

The pigeon went back to pecking at the crumbs before it.

The bus crashed just afterwards of this event, but the damage was not too bad. While it was in the shop, the bus riders and the driver holed up in a Motel6, 3 to a room. I don't know what happened inside, but the riders will surely tell you. Now, if you will excuse me, I am writing a story about a pigeon that needs some work. 

The End

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