Sustenance

By Bob

The No. 12 bus pulled to the stop beside the Burlingame Freddies late at night and a young woman got on board. She was wearing a tank top and jeans, with a peasant skirt completing her outfit. She had quite an assortment of tattoos on one arm, while the other arm was blank.

She carried a plastic sack in each hand. It was obvious that one sack was considerably heavier than the other. The disparity in weight made her progress down the aisle look like something out of a pinball machine. She was overloaded and went sideways almost as much as forward. The sacks banged off the poles on either side as she made
her way.

Finally, she reached the back seat. She set the larger, heavier sack on the floor. PBR. A full case. Twenty-four cans of liquid heaven.

The smaller sack rested in her lap. It held a box of Honey Nut Cheerios. She opened the box and grabbed a handful and started chowing.

Five minutes later, still munching, she rang the bell. Her stop was Luradel Street, home to many apartment buildings. She gathered up her beer and Cheerios and struggled to the back door of the bus. Off she went into the night, lugging the precious Pabst and coveted cereal.

A winning combination, for sure.