Epilogue Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
It was their last ride.

Submitted: April 29, 2008

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Submitted: April 29, 2008

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The Giza microbus leaves from MUST University with 14 passengers aboard. It’s hot, dusty, together with dry and wet sweat on your skin, it generates a sense of suicide inside you, but they’re used to it. Pigs would not like it.

Students came to university everyday with a mind full of dreams and anticipations about their future. Dreams grown by the suffering of high school trauma and a future feeding on their flesh, but they are used to it.

 A fellow sitting in the window seat tells his friend about Thursday night. The one with small boobs was really bashful, Sally, the other one is Sally too, anyway, she was so stiff. It took us an hour a talking to loosen her up, and still she wouldn’t let me touch her vagina except with her pants on. The fleshy fellow tries to find a comfy posture for his legs in the small bank between the driver’s seat and his in the ancient microbus, his friend says, didn’t find the place quite secluded huh? Nah, we paid the doorman some fucking 300 pounds, the garage idea was just right, I think it’s because she wasn’t exactly a whore, just wanted to make some money. Money for sex is whoring already. Yes I guess, the other Sally was the real deal, by the time I had a handjob, Adam had come twice.

The microbus escapes the narrow lanes and air rushes through its windows setting the hair of boys crazy in all directions, girls are veiled. But the not the veil or the covering-all outfit could hide those boobs. She was a beauty in the classical sense of the word, a little chubby I mean. In her mind. the son dies, the father’s chastisement, no, the son kills his father, justice is served, yes, good. In a pink notebook guarded by Barbie the rocker she writes the finale to a short story she’s writing.

 

The passengers collected the fare and the fleshy fellow handed it to the driver. He noticed the drivers eyes are half closed and his hands are not firm on the wheel. I’m fine. The driver replies.

Gamal Mubarek looked handsome. Really, what a surprise, what do you expect an A.U.C. graduate to look like. No, it’s his confidence, he sounded concerned, charismatic to a degree, but really confident. He IS concerned, they got to do something if they wanna stick around. Two girls were speaking.

In the Sony ear buds connected to a N91, John Petrucci was on one of his trips to his exotic scales, following with a will to learn was a boy in the window seat, enjoying the air beating his face.

“come in” said I, “ hey what’s up, the microbus with plate number 11454 heading from October city to Giza, Egypt, explosion or an accident, everybody dies.”


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