Waiting at a Bus Stop

The story that started a crazy chain of events for me.

It takes a certain type of human to cut the line of an ice cream truck. The scruffy guy sitting next to me on the bus bench looks at me strangely but I don’t mind. The bus arrives and I watch him stumble aboard. The bus driver asks me if I’m getting on. Nah, I’m just here to pass the time. It drives away and I notice an Activia ad on the back of it.

Twenty-seven minutes pass until another human decides to sit on the bench beside me. It happens to be a dental assistant in her scrub. She looks at me apprehensively and then minds her own business while she waits for the next bus to arrive. I break the silence. My uncle wants to put my cousin down because he has diabetes. She raises an eyebrow but that is all. The bus comes and she is gone. I stay for a while. I leave.

This state of mind isn’t where I belong. This land doesn’t make sense. What good is it to be human if you have chromosomes in your body that belong in a Bengal tiger? What good is it to be human if your voice can only communicate one idea at a time? I unplug my brain and drift off into unconsciousness.

I wake up to the sound of a toll booth employee yelling next. It’s Mikah. He’s giving directions to a vanilla pudding cup on where it needs to go in the stomach. Make a left in a mile, then a right after Toni’s pizzeria. If you see Madison Triangle Garden you’ve gone too far. Next. A family of green beans wearing tacky tourist clothing want to visit the kidney. Mikah frowns. I’m only here to help you out with directions in the stomach so beat it you clowns. I leave.

I open the door into a building made out of cloud and see Geraldine. She’s organizing the shelves as she always is. I never talk to her but I like seeing the new shipments that arrive. Calculus midterm. Milk allergy. Stubbing toe on chair. Geraldine owns a store of personal hells. Actually, more like a garden. Customers come and buy her seeds, plant them, and wait for the hells to grow. It’s like hell has become a staple of their diets. I leave.

I’m not supposed to be here but that’s the thrill of it. I watch from behind a bush as a group of about seven blue bloods circle around something humans call a book. Reading is outlawed here but that doesn’t stop them. I try to look at their eyes but no one is looking my direction. Now someone is and I see it. Her eyes have that glossy look of having just read something. What an amazing look that is; it could just have easily been me over there. New knowledge is the most valuable commodity here so it’s only for the elite. The music is chipper and I start to feel drunk and saucy. I leave.

The sun is 99.85% of our solar system but here it’s only 0.15% of everything. Here the sun laughs and pokes fun at volcanoes. Here the sun unboils boiled eggs. The sun isn’t crazy. You don’t have to be crazy to live here, but it helps. I leave.

I eat some of my popcorn and prepare for the second act of an elementary school play. These young crayons are fresh out of the box and have memorized their lines word for word. The play is a reenactment of the Battle of Bunker Hill. A white crayon portraying a general exclaims to his troops. Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes. The soldiers all nod in agreement. On the other side of the stage, a barrage of red crayons condensate from the sky depicting the Red Coats. Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes the white crayon says again. The Red Coats march closer and reveal that they are all wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, hiding the whites of their eyes. A massacre of Union soldiers commences. I look at my pamphlet and read the title of the play: The Real Battle of Bunker Hill. I leave.

I’m a stranger to this land but far from strange. A lightbulb named Poindexter is midway through his first drug deal. The dealer is rummaging through the back of his bicycle and pulls out a gram of Elmer’s white glue: the gateway glue to more dangerous and addicting glues. That’s 46 watts, kid. Another lightbulb who is blatantly under the influence of super glue shows up. Hey, Mr. Ball. Please, just call me Tennis, Kayak. Alright, well I’m out of watts but I can pay you next week. No, glow outta here man. Kayak looks at Poindexter. Never try super glue, buddy. I leave.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a telephone pole. It’s finally time for me to plug my brain back in. With the help of two lemons, we pick up the cord and jolt me back to consciousness. I walk back to the bus stop and sit down on the bench. A bus pulls up and the driver asks if I’m getting in. Nah, I’m just here to pass the time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Comments are appreciated

Reviews

[Moonie]

Haha, that sounds pretty crazy lol...I feel that this was chaotic and absurd in a very orderly way...I felt as if the protagonist was definitely hallucinating whether under the influence of some prescription, some drugs or because of some disorder. Either ways, the way you maintain the pace and your attention to detail makes the whole tale worth appreciating! Good writing!

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thank you, your review means a lot to me!

[Agyani]

Wow, this was a great read. What a wonderful idea and depiction. My friend, I hope you start writing stories here again.

I especially loved the bit about Geraldine's personal hell garden and the lightbulb out on his first drug purchase. The 'glow outta here man' really cracked me up!

Again, I hope that you come back to the cafe here. :)

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

Ah, the world between dreams and lucidity I love how they mingle, the triad of lonacy really didnt stop you here. The great wackiness is just stupendous. Thank you for writing,

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thank you for the review!

[Philip Muls]

Cleverly absurd. There are some great ideas here, crazy worlds. Reminds me of the movie The Cell.

Well done. I will read more of you.

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thank you, Philip!
I really appreciate your comment and I'll look into The Cell

[Samuel Dickens]

I'm not sure if this a work of genius or the result of eating the wrong kind of mushrooms. Either way, it's very well done and crazy wild.

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thanks for the read, Samuel!
I'm glad you liked it!

[Woody]

this is hilarious gaston. crazy but very funny. what a roller coaster!
had a good laugh, thanks.

[Gaston Villanueva]

I appreciate the kind words Woody
Thanks for reading!

[Mr_M]

This is the first act of lunacy. Though I found it crazy I found it quite therapeutic to read. (I am not sure what this says about me...) Different, quirky and creative. If Forrest gump meet acid this would compute. I will be thinking of this story when I am next at a bus stop waiting for the bus. I might use the same line you use at the start and ending just to watch the reaction of the bus drivers face.

[Gaston Villanueva]

How do I get to the second act of lunacy? haha I enjoyed writing this a lot and I'm glad that you liked it Mr_M! Thanks for the review!

[Riley Justine]

Such a good humourous and mind boggling story. It was good to come across something fairly light-hearted on this website. Keep writing darling!

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thanks for the kind words Silent Raven!

[Jennie Baron]

Delicious absurdity! Almost like an explanation of insanity or a drug trip. I was reminded of Alice's adventures in Wonderland, and that's not bad. Well deserving of a contest win!

One small thing, in the last paragraph chord s/b cord.

[Gaston Villanueva]

Thank you Jennie! I appreciate your feedback!

[Mute Ventriloquist]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH YES! YES!THIS IS IT GASTON! THIS IS IT!

[Gaston Villanueva]

You're the man, David
Thanks for the support!