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Bus Story: In Which Childhood Rides the 120

January 5, 2016

He fidgets. Checks his watch. Twice in rapid succession. Readjusting his pale yellow jacket, he sighs, with great impatience, as the bus slows in traffic. An allergy sufferer, he is constantly wriggling his nose and making little “humph” noises.

A seat or two away, dressed in greys and black, a gentleman, appearing older than his years, turns to his seat mate, a lively young woman in pink, and begins to complain. About everything. The bus, the rain, the cold, the rotation of the earth. All are fodder for his gloom. She listens and pipes up with a few attempts to deviate his diatribe, but mostly, she just gets more and more distressed as we roll along.

Towards the front of the bus, a large man in foresty tans and brown is regaling the driver with his knowledge of all things vehicular.

Rabbit, Eeyore, Piglet, and Owl are all here. We just need Tigger, Kanga and little Roo, and, of course, Pooh Bear himself, to complete the ensemble. 

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From → Bus Stories

One Comment
  1. And, I imagine, you are filling in for Chris Robins

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