The Wheels on the BusSTOPGOI drive the short bus. I'm not supposed to call it that, but that's what it is, and I'm not gonna call it something it isn't. I used to ride it, but now I drive it. Everyone on the bus is here for a reason. Everyone on the bus is special in their own way.The kid that sits behind me is Anthony. Anthony is angry because his parents beat him. He kicks my chair to make me angry, and it works. He's kicking it right now. I want to beat him, too, like his parents do, only worse, much worse. I want that seat to be drenched in blood, coming from the orifices of that little shit's face as I pound his skull until he finally stops breathing. Then I'll hang his legs from the ceiling, and no one will ever sit in the seat behind me again. But I don't do those things...I don't because the seat behind me doesn't get crushed in the crash, and Anthony will grow up and save a child from a burning building. Anthony's wife stabs him to death.In the seat next to Anthony is Christopher. Christopher
MundaneIt was a typical day at the Chinese food place down the street. Employees drift in like the gentle light of the rising sun. The chimes chiming. The pretty Asian voice streaming from the speaker. The Super Lucky Cat grinning unconditionally. One by one the diligent employees march in, ready to do whatever they do for their paychecks. The first one in is always the owner, with the key rattling in his hand, the shaking tail of a serpent ready to strike. Twisting. Turning. Threatening. My what sharp fangs you have. The click, it strikes. The door opens, you're dead. Kiss your body goodbye. You're in heaven now. Heaven is a Chinese food place down the street.The bulky chef struts in. You are what you eat. The cheerful waitress-slash-happy-ignorant-bitch smiles at him. Hear no evil, speak no evil, look at the Super Lucky Cat. The college guy with glasses, whose job today is to make the rice. The world loves to see you fail. You were given everything and you wasted it. Multiplied your future
ScumbagSometimes, a game is more than just a game. This was the case with a guy named K-- who I knew from the popular online roleplaying game World of Warcraft. I've been a competitive, "hardcore" gamer for a while leading up to the events of this story, and I'm used to evaluating, interacting with, and generally spending a lot of time online with other gamers. The area of the game that I've spent the most time with is raiding, which is when either ten or twenty-five players, often organized as part of a guild, team up to fight monsters and get new weapons and armor to make their characters more powerful. In the years that I've been playing World of Warcraft a lot of situations have gone sour because of people being egotistical, selfish, short-tempered, immature, or overdramatic. For example, every group of players has a designated leader in charge of distributing the game's virtual rewards, and it isn't that uncommon for a leader to unfairly keep the best items for himself or give
Children of the SunNext to me, a displaced boy stands underneath a wavering palm tree. He hops up and down in his sandals and can feel the gentle ocean breeze against his face even though he's miles away from the Atlantic. Hungry seagulls skitter by, crying and looking for crumbs.The boy closes his eyes and enters into an azure world of dreams."Hiy-tee iz soo boo-tee-fool," he muses, his soul inflamed inside of him. His lips form sounds, and the sounds turn into song.Marchers scream and carry flags down hallways, up stairways, and through the courtyard. The feet of the synchronized army shuffle together; solid waves of humanity flow out of classrooms in celebration. The open sky embraces these pilgrims, these voyagers from afar, and the sun glistens off their black skin.The bathroom walls are a shelter from the noise and confusion of the outside world. It's here, in this quiet pocket of isolation, that I'm granted respite from the past and future. I close my eyes and feel the blanket of da
Am I a CanMy only purpose isto provide nourishment foryou and your loved ones...Here it comes.I hear your shadow humming.It sings to me. Tells mepretty lies and uglytruths.Do you hear me crying?Can you detect mypanicked noise?Are my screams not loudenough for you?Go ahead.Tear my scalp off.Ravage my innards andpush them into your fleshyface.I want to feel your teethcrashing against each other.I want to be caressed byyour soft, squishy tongue.I want to be dirty inside you.You murdered everyone Iever cared for.Why not murder me?