EPTThis is a short story I wrote because of how much I love the commuting to school everyday. It's 750 words so it wont take much of your time to read.Tell me what you guys think of it(any and all feedback is greatly appreciated)
-----Public transportation in the winter is my step father, an asshole. Fifteen minutes ago I left a dog, a half eaten pop tart, hope, and dressed for the frigid bullshit of the outside world. Now I have to trek through this icy nonsense in order to miss the god damn bus.
I get to the stop and I'm not sure if I'm early or late. I ask a crowd of five frozen mummies if any of them have the time. They don’t even look at me which bugs me beyond imagination. I'm about to swear at them till my throat is raw but the bus's arrival spares them the barrage. I climb ascend the steps and greet the fat driver barely scrunched into his seat at the front of the bus. He doesn't answer me, just motions towards the till. I spend a long time fishing for change and finally manage to piece $3.25 together. I toss the change at the driver and thrust ahead into a small pack of six people occupying a space that looks to be only capable of supporting two. But just before I manage to disappear into the crowd a crushing grip takes hold of my left wrist. A second later I hear the driver say, “Sorry kid, fair just got raised.”
I see a silver glint. I hear a ‘swoosh’. I feel an incredible lightness and I smell and taste blood. When I turn around the bus driver is holding up a bloody cleaver in his left hand and MY left hand in his right. I stare at the space where my frost bitten fingers should be right now, but all I see is a fountain of blood. The driver takes hold of my stump just before it erupts and does a fairly expert job of bandaging it. He turns back to the road and keeps on rolling.
I feel as if I should be shocked or outraged, but I honestly just feel a bit empty, and not at all surprised. After all, it's the YRT. What does surprise me is the fact that I hadn’t noticed when I got on the bus that everyone else was missing their left hand.
I cry out to my fellow cripples, “Hey assholes! They cut off our hands!” No one replies, so I call again. I get one response from a guy sitting to my right: without looking away from his Ipad he says, “Just sit down bud, quit rocking the boat”
I smash the Ipad out of his hands and shout, “Who’s rocking the boat now?” He hits me. I do likewise and when a few of those hits miss their marks and land in the crowd, the fight gets bigger. A minute later, chaos has erupted. Children are pulling each other's hair and grandmas are clawing at each others’ throats.
Eventually the great brawl comes to an end. The victor is the one guy who'd bought a working bus pass, the only non-amputee onboard. At his two hands the passengers had suffered a terrible defeat. The uneven brawl forces them to realize that they may never win another fight again. The passengers grow to be every bit as angry as I am, and they converge at the bus driver as if to tear him apart. “This is bull! I want my hand back!” “Yeah, I'm already late for work! I demand a refund!” “Hey, why did you only take left hands?! Is it because you think everyone is right-handed?! Well I'm a leftie, and I won’t stand for this discrimination!” On and on they rage like the best runner-ups mourning their loss in the aftermath of a neck-and-neck race.
In the midst of the driver’s roast the bus comes to a screeching halt. A quick glance reveals the stop to be my destination. I ask the guy from before if he could check the time for me on his Ipad. He looks at me with a furrowed brow and a pair of tight lips, doesn’t say a thing, and just clutches his Ipad tightly against his chest. Not entirely able to mask my disappointment I turn away and head toward the exit. I'm one foot out the door when I just barely hear the man with the Ipad yell above the voices of the increasingly angry passengers “Its 8:25!” His words declare me to be miraculously on time.------
Do you hate the bus? Share your transit horror stories here! It'll be contextual!
