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Bus Story: The Twang of Time

September 3, 2014

It started with a sound. An unusual sound. Imagine the sound of a violin string suddenly snapping and hitting a large oil can in recoil. The can then rolls a few feet before hitting the shins of a very skinny man with a voice like a sheep. Twang-ker-blang-thrrrrummm-whack-baahaaaha-OW! All that in a split-second.That is the sound we hear from the back of the bus, as we careen down the road, taking weary travelers home after a Tuesday-that-Feels-Like-a-Monday. Heads whip around as everyone tries to figure out what could creat that sound. Nothing. Nothing looks amiss in the rear of the coach. No one in pain. No large metal drum and shattered violin. And everyone in the back is looking around as well, also looking for the source.

Except her.

She’s frantically flipping through the pages of a spiral-bound notebook, pushing a stray auburn curl out of her eyes. Round and oddly reminiscent of a parakeet, she’s dressed for the Renn Faire, complete with thigh-high boots, a laced bodice, and a dark cape trimmed in grey velvet. Frustrated with her unsuccessful search through the notebook, she flips it closed and looks up to find the entire ridership looking at her. With the practiced ease of a performer, she stands, swirls her cape about her zaftig frame, and with a lilting “Cheerio!”, she departs through the back door. When Maid Marian time travels, she certainly makes a great entrance and an even better exit.


From → Bus Stories

  1. Busboy permalink

    Thanks for “zaftig”! I should have known: there’s a word for that.

  2. I am pleased, my bus brother, to facilitate adding that wonderful word to your world!

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