Each night I catch the bus home, same number, same route, same time. It’s just that, well weird stuff happens. Most nights I don’t even remember being on it. When I do, oh boy!
There was the time an entire faceless wedding party got on, we had to make a fifty-mile detour to Sheffield. Turned out they were all people I knew.
Another time we were chased by a rhinoceros and an elephant. It turned out OK, they both managed to get on and sat right in front of me for the whole way.
We’ve been abroad, in space, under the sea. The bus once broke down half way home but I managed to fly the rest of the way launching from the roof.
I’ve seen monsters, demons, ghosts, dead people. Some very bad things have happened that I don’t want to talk about. Good things happen too. Once we had a party with music, ice cream and gin. That was the night we crashed into the canal in Venice or was it Doncaster.
There are so many strange things that have happened, I have been getting the bus since I was a child. I like the journey it’s comforting. Somehow it makes the real world palatable, knowing that each evening I’m going on that crazy journey.
I suppose one day soon enough there’ll be no more bus rides home. Time then I suppose to take the train.