Martin walked the streets — again. It was raining — again, and him without his umbrella, and his Volkswagen Bug in the shop — again. The downpour drenched his black hair and thick red heavy glasses. Now the glasses are in such a fog that he couldn’t see much of anything, other than the glow of headlights of various sedans and other family transports, either going to school or returning from. Five o’ clock rush. Little brats. And more Dora the Explorer or Barney the Purple Dinosaur. He waited for the bus. Twenty minutes late as he checked on his silver Invicta nautical watch. Nautical in case of the flood apocalypse or the always-late-public-transportation-bus-driver-apocalypse or something. He sighed and took out his Star Wars-ified Limited Edition Sony PSP handheld gaming device. The humidity began clouding the monitor as he played Star Wars: Force Unleashed. He wished he could be Star Killer or Darth Vader and cause pure and utter havoc.
But this is where our story begins and ends. No, this is not the story of Arthur Dent and the Hitchhiker’s Guide, nor of Han Solo and his Millenium Falcon, nor of King Arthur and his Round Table, but something much more epic. Not really. But this bus ride will be the beginning and the end of unfolding events in the city. Not really.
Thirty minutes late, and the bus finally pulled up. The bus driver, a dumpy and angry-looking man, waved Martin in. His soggy multi-colored Jerry Garcia Converses slid on each of the three plastic steps, squealing upon each sluggish step. He dropped in his token. He squeaked to a seat in the middle of the bus. The bus lurched as it started up. Someone coughed in the back of the bus. Then the bus rumbled through the rain.
(To be continued…)