Bus Driver

Everything was planned. Everything was prepared.

Everyone was committed. Everyone was ready.

And then I realized what a real load of no-good-sissy-selfish-weak-hearted-croaking-cowards my partners all were.

I came storming out of the building with a bag full of money under one arm and a crying partner under the other. I had had to use brutal methods to get this far. Most of my other partners were lying on the floor in the bank with their hands on their heads just like everyone else. One of them was even locked in the safe. Oh yes, and Jimmy was hanging from the security camera by his ankle. What a load of useless-incompetent-duck-brained-imbeciles!

I couldn't take this. My imagination was going to go wild with increasingly exstensive metaphors. I mean, what a bunch of kitty-nosed-cry-baby-teacup-twiddle-fingered-preschoolers!

I got to the parking lot and froze. The getaway car was presently being towed while Leo was hanging out of the driver's window crying mexican insults to the heavens. How can you possibly get towed while sitting in the driver's seat? What a bloody-no-good...I stopped myself short with the anxious realization that I was screwed. I dropped buddy on the ground beside me, and began a run on foot with the money.

But sirens were in the distance. No doubt my partners in back had called 911 after having gone into anxiety attacks. What a bunch of pampered barbie dolls. I skittered to a stop in the middle of the parking lot and ran a quick gaze over the nearby cars. There had to be something I could swipe in a hurry!

And then an engine started at the same time as a police cruiser came whipping around the corner. I ducked and ran for the sound of the engine, planning to hijack whatever presented itself. I sprinted between the cars until I spotted motion. My eyes went wide, but it was too late to stop my fleeing feet.

So I shoulder-checked the greyhound.

The bus kept moving. I pounded again, screaming impossible threats, and running alongside its steady motion. Then it finally slowed to a stop. With a hiss, the door opened, and a fat driver looked down at me with a queer eye.

"This ain't your bus," the man said.

"It is now," I spat, jumping up the steep stairs to give the driver what I hoped was the look of a raving lunatic with death sitting on his shoulder nibbling crackers.

The driver passed out.

"Well," I said, "that was rather unexpected."

I wasted no time in moving the man from his seat, down the stairs, and out behind a bush while the cop cars surrounded the bank only a parking lot away. Then I ran back up the stairs and closed the door. I gave my passengers a careful look.

"Hello," I said.

Two long rows of eyes stared back at me. Someone dropped a pencil. The whine of music from some distant set of head phones dropped into silence.

"...Your driver has fainted," I said with slow deliberation. "But do not worry. I am your replacement."

There was a general murmur of appreciation. I raised an eyebrow. "Right," I muttered. "And gullible's not in the dictionary."

Then I hopped into the driver's seat and began to move the bus from the parking lot, telling myself over and over again that a high speed chase was a high speed chase regardless of vehicle choice.

I motored it out onto the street and floored the gas. The passengers watched a movie. I merged onto the highway. A lady complained that the bathroom stunk. I sat hunched over the wheel like a madman, giving fierce repeated looks to the rear view mirror. The passengers were silent.

And for some reason...no one was following me.

The End

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