The Bus Driver

The same route day after day, the Blue Line.  Out of the Central Street Transfer Station, up Main all the way to Bouton Avenue, north to Noble Street, then west on County Line road, south on Park Avenue, to the Central Street Transfer Station.  Forty five minutes, ten times a day, with lunch break, five days a week, fifty weeks a year, six years to retirement.  This was the life of the Bus Driver if you add a one room third floor apartment with basic cable and a nightly meal of take-out- Chinese, bowling at the Tropicana Bowling Center on Thursday night.

This may explain the dark side of the Bus Driver.  He was a hunter.  worse than that, he was a heartless hunter.  His prey?  Pigeons and squirrels, an occasional cat, and on one glorious day in the May of '08, a Great Dane on a chase of a Burmese cat.  On that day, with the deft touch on the steering wheel, the kitty cat met her demise with a strike from the right front wheel, the Great Dane, a mighty blow from the right front fender.  Oh, he had performed the mandatory crocodile tears of such a tragic accident, but he knew such days as this were rare and that they had to be savored over and over again in the glee of his dreams.

With a pull of the chrome door handle and a shift of the gear, the Bus Driver pulled away from the curb so that he might make one more murderous run around the Blue Line of Terror.


The End

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