Bus Stop

So this is Christmas. The roads are full of people starving for cheap gifts made in Taiwan, and here I am on a bench, drunk, waiting for the f*****g bus to come pick me up and lug me to the next bus stop, and eventually I'll be home. I'll be able to lie down on the couch with the itchy material that scratches your skin if contact is made. I'll be able to hide in my room at the far end of the house, cold and dark, filled with my books. At home I'll help myself to the contents of the fridge at my own pleasure. I'll indulge in a snack and a movie, next to the fireplace in the small room. Home. Where its cold even with a fire burning. Where the furniture is too small and uncomfortable to rest in. Where the food is always being eaten by everyone else. Home. 

But right now I'm waiting at the bus stop, waiting to go to work, bundled in two jackets and a coat, briefs under boxers under sweat pants under jeans. A beanie hides my freshly shaven head. The swastika that hangs from the thin chain around my neck is like ice against my chest. A Christmas gift from Jax. I have my back pack with my job outfit and some money and things. It's my last day of work. Christmas. Home awaits. I just hope Jax isn't still upset.

A woman walks up the sidewalk with a small, pathetic looking dog on a leash. She sits down next to me, blonde hair flowing out of a beanie, her legs thick with what looks like muscle; comparing them with the rest of her body she doesn't appear fat. Thin neck wrapped in a scarf, long arms and legs, she must be a runner, looking at her thighs under those tight jeans. I look down at her feet and she is wearing gray Nike's with pink laces. She is definitely a runner. I allow myself to look into her face now, after studying her feminine transport. Her face is nice but its miles away from those legs.

She leans down and picks the dog up and sets it in between us. She takes off a glove to pet the dog. She curls her finger around in its hair. The dog seems to enjoy even though the air is f*****g cold. The dog looks at me with black eyes.

I look at the woman, she looks at me, and she smiles. Her hand pats away on the dog, and the dog watches me. It won't look away.

The woman says, “I just got him today.”

I look into her eyes and they are blue, perfectly blue, and that blonde hair that waves around them; it's like an ocean in the middle of a desert. She looks away after I don't say anything and I try to think of something to say, something clever and witty, but when nothing comes I just say, “He's cute.”

She looks back at me and smiles again, showing her sharp teeth rooted in her red gums. She picks up the little dog, who is still staring at me with those black eyes, and she says, “I really rather enjoy saving animals from the shelter. I try to save as much as I can. It just isn't fair that they have to die.”

“Well, everybody and everything has to die, you know.”

“Yes, but they don't have to suffer. I have ninety six cats and dogs.”

“What!”

“It's true. I try to care for them. Provide them with food, and walk the dogs, give them their exercise. Cats don't necessarily need exercise as much as dogs. But I try to care and tend to all of them, but its just so hard because there is so many of them. I  started off with just four dogs and four cats. And all they do is just hump each other and multiply. A week goes by and there's another litter of puppies. Another week goes by and there's ten freshly born cats under my couch.”

“You have a lot of animals. You have a good soul.”

I told her what she wanted to hear. I couldn't stop stealing glances at those legs though. My God, they were superb. 

“I try to be. I try to help as much as I can. I'm apart of the West Lake Altruist Society.”

“Oh really?” I laugh a little to myself. This altruistic broad making small talk with the local neo-Nazi. I lean closer to her and she inhales for more oxygen to fuel the rest of her story.

“Yes. There are certain agreements that you have to conform with. First there was the homeless shelter. Then there was the dog shelter. Then there was the hospital. You have to really devote yourself to it if you really want to get anything out of it.”

“And you got ninety six dogs and cats out of it.”

She chuckled and said, “I sure did. Sometimes I think I'm going to go crazy with all of these animals to tend to, but I just think, what if I was one of them? What if I was a dog in a dog pound? Wouldn't you want someone to come adopt you?”

“I certainly would.”

“I keep all the dogs outside except for only a few. Like twenty. I keep all of the cats inside too.”

“That must be pretty crazy. Living with all those animals.”

“Oh, it has its moments. Sometimes I'll come home and pet one kitty and find it bleeding with some other cats fingernails sticking out of its face.”

“So what are you doing today? It is Christmas, you know.”

“Oh I know.” She exhaled and uncrossed her legs. She continued petting the dogs head and said, “I'm just waiting for the bus to come and take me away.  I need to go far. I need to leave. I can't take all of these animals. I know it's harsh but its something I've always dreamed of doing. I locked all of them inside the house and left no food out. So they're going to have to eat each other. I'm an animal scientist/psychologist. I just graduated from med school and now that I'm done I'm leaving this town. What about you?”

“I'm actually on my way to work.”

“Oh, that's unfortunate. You have to work on Christmas?”

“It's actually my last day on the job. I get to go finally go home tomorrow.”

“What is it you do?”

The conflicts inside my head made me unsure if I should tell her that I'm a mall Santa Clause, that that job position is the first in twenty years, and that in my spare time I am a advocate of neo-Nazism. Hey, don't judge me. It was how I was raised. But surely this crazy b***h of a broad wouldn't mind my political and social views if she is serious about what she said about the whole animal murdering thing. Hmmm. Maybe she's a Nazi too. Or maybe she knows I'm a Nazi, and she's just f*****g with me. I don't know. I look at her face blankly without a proper response and I manage stutter, “I work in the mall.”

“Oh, well that's lovely. At least you get to be in a fun, energetic work environment.”

“Yeah.”

The bus pulled up the road and braked in front of us. We both stood up and she said,

“What is it that you do in the mall?”

Why, this pestering b***h, why does she have to persist in these Communist questionings?

“I'm the mall Santa. Photos,”

We entered the bus, she went in first and I watched her hips climb the steps. She dropped in some change and I did the same. I followed her to the end of the bus but I didn't know if I should sit with her. She sat down and I stopped and she smiled and said, “Mall Santa Clause? That's so neat!” She scoots over in the seat and I sit down. 

“Yeah, it's okay. I feel kind of bad when a kid starts to cry though. They're screaming uncontrollably and I'm just sitting there in this itchy outfit and a fake beard and this f*****g kid is convulsing on my leg.”

The bus slows to another bus stop and two more people get on and sit down in the front. The dog has its head down in her crotch. There is something really odd about this girl. She is evidently completely insane but at the same time she is incredibly sweet and beautiful. She unzips her jacket and a necklace falls out, exposed to my eyes, and I realize it's the same necklace that hangs around my neck, and all at once there is a knife sticking into my gut, and the whispers in my ear. Jax sends you his regards.

Reviews

[Jade Mayhew]

Thank you for submitting this in my contest! It was an absolute delight to read! In a sick, twisted kind of way. While I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, I wish you would have explained who Jax was. In the beginning, you state that the swastika necklace is a Christmas gift from Jax but that the narrator hopes "Jax isn't still upset." And then, in the end, when the woman stabs him, she says that Jax sends his regards. However, there's no description in between to describe how the narrator knows Jax. Whether they're siblings, friends, members of the same Neo-Nazi group. It would also be interesting to know what caused their fight.

All in all, it was a very good story, and a very unexpected twist. I would just have enjoyed knowing more regarding the mysterious Jax.

[Jade Mayhew]

Thank you for submitting this in my contest! It was an absolute delight to read! In a sick, twisted kind of way. While I thoroughly enjoyed reading this, I wish you would have explained who Jax was. In the beginning, you state that the swastika necklace is a Christmas gift from Jax but that the narrator hopes "Jax isn't still upset." And then, in the end, when the woman stabs him, she says that Jax sends his regards. However, there's no description in between to describe how the narrator knows Jax. Whether they're siblings, friends, members of the same Neo-Nazi group. It would also be interesting to know what caused their fight.

All in all, it was a very good story, and a very unexpected twist. I would just have enjoyed knowing more regarding the mysterious Jax.

[Naraly Godinez]

I'd be ready to review the next twisted tale

[ZackOfBridge]

Well s**t, is that why i didnt get anything for Christmas? A hot sadistic animal lover killed ol saint nick. I thoroughly enjoyed the tale Max

[Chadvonswan]

Haha much obliged Zackary. :D

[Naraly Godinez]

Bra to the vo .....now I understand that that remark was probably not the best when worded but I have no intention of erasing it ... That was fantastic it had a great in expecting ending. I mean I didn't even know what the story was about but its great and might even work well as an introduction to a book or series's of connecting tales