A Short Story

The Bus-Stop
Rhonda Davis

            I was just so tired. You would think that the look on my face, the way I was walking, or just the fact that I was standing there at five-thirty in the evening would be enough for anyone to understand how tired I was.
            My boss really pissed me off today. First I had to sit in his office and listen to him brag about his son in college, while he smoked those awful cigars, blowing the smoke practically down my throat, then afterwards have him get mad at me for having my report turned in late. If I had used that time he was blowing all his wind at me to do my report, it would have been on time! Oh, and then my co-worker Mike, geez this guy is such a pig. Why should I have to be subjected to his constant chats about his triumphs with the ladies, how he banged this chick or banged that chick, truth be told, he still lives with his mom, and she is the only bang he ever had. Then there is Molly, who the hell thought to hire someone who cracks gum all the damn time to work in an office environment? If she says “whatever” to me one more damn time I’m going to bust a gasket. Ah, and I don’t even want to get into what went on when I’m supposed to be having my lunch-break; I get a call from my lawyer, my wife has decided , well my ex-wife, that she wants to keep the house not sell it, so where does that leave me, just ass out I guess. And my son, Jesus! What the hell was he thinking, setting a fire in school? Now he has to go to court to get back into school, if they allow him back, if not, well that’s a whole different story!
            “But sir, you didn’t answer the question”, said the officer, why did you shoot the bus-driver?
            “Don’t you see? He said there were no more empty seats.”


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