Food fright

By Jim

 "No eating on the bus," the big driver bellows. An oblivious young woman sitting toward the back of the No. 44 keeps chomping on french fries. The bus sails on, plying the asphalt sea with its human cargo. Again: "No eating on the bus!" She keeps eating. The driver checks her out in the rear-view mirror. What's with her? At the next stop: "No eating on the bus!"

Is she adrift in music, earbuds hidden beneath her long black hair? Is she deaf? Does she question authority? Hard to know.

A couple of miles later, she pulls the cord. The bus stops. She goes to the back door to get off. The door doesn't open. She pushes on it. Nothing; it's locked. She calls out, "Back door."

The driver answers, "FRONT DOOR."

She walks to the front door, and the front door closes. There is no escape.

"Do you speak English?" the driver says.

She turns to face her interrogator. "Yes." 

"I told you three times not to eat on the bus."

She looks scared. "I didn't hear you."

"Everyone else on the bus heard me." (The driver is correct about that.)

She doesn't answer.

Then the front doors open. Fry Girl is free.