Thursday March 14, 2019
Michael Crichton and Richard Preston
Man gets on my bus and he smells like piss and oil. “Morning,” I say and he leans in close and shows me his teeth.
“Gotta get to the teeth doc!” Looks like it’s been awhile.
“Take a seat, and we’ll be on our way,” I say. The old lady sitting close moves a few seats back, bringing a handkerchief to her nose. In the rearview mirror I see several people scowl.
“Gotta get to the teeth doc!” My man says again.
I drive because it’s an honourable job. People are always gonna have places to get to. I like my current route. I’m thinking to ask about staying on it for awhile.
End of the line. Man’s still there. He’s fallen asleep.