The Bus Ride

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story that occurred to me on a Bus in DC.

Submitted: January 23, 2012

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Submitted: January 23, 2012

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I wake up.

I look around, heart racing.

No one saw me, no one noticed.

I exhale.

I am very aware of the package on my lap, the gun in my pocket.

The trigger seems to be burning into my finger.

The tour bus carries on.

I look out the window, the Washington Monument half obscured by fog.

It's a gloomy evening.

My left hand is sweating around the handle, nervous twitches around the safety.

I seem to be hearing a ticking from the package.

I know it isn't, it wouldn't be, but it freaks me out.

Every glance in my direction, my heart skips a beat.

After we pass any distinguishing landmarks, I get ready for this.

My seatmate continues to read her trashy novels, ignoring me.

Perfect.

I take out the gun, fire a warning shot into the window next to me.

The bus skids off to the side of the road.

DRIVE, I yell.

I fire a second shot.

The bus driver resumes driving.

I walk up to the front of the bus.

I hand the driver a piece of paper with the address I want.

He gives me a still face filled with horror.

I raise the gun.

I visibly click the safety off, for dramatic effect.

The driver turns back to the road, shaking.

I turn around and view the scared passengers.

I let them know they have nothing to worry about.

I also let them know I'm not fucking around.

I open the package, exposing the contents.

Silence fills the room.

We drive for a while.

No one speaks.

We arrive.


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