Make Way for the Poor

I don’t live miles away from where I work, but I live far enough away to get stuck in traffic on the way home.

When I’m sat in traffic, I’m constantly taunted by the empty lane to the left of me which is apparently reserved for something called a ‘bus’.

I did a bit of research on this, and it turns out that a ‘bus’ is a large vehicle used to transport common people from the benefit office to their council estates. Intrigued, I decided to dig deeper, so the next day I waited by a pole stuck in the side of the road, which I believe the peasants refer to as a ‘bus stop’. On reflection, this makes sense, because it’s simple and obvious, the cave people can understand it without too much effort.

That bus, bus stop there, that bus stop.

Easy.

So I waited for a while, desperately trying not to make eye contact with the murderers and rapists that were waiting with me. Finally, a ‘bus’ arrived, and true to the name, it stopped at the ‘bus stop’. I was right! At this point, mistakenly expecting the social etiquette rules that human beings live by to be observed, I formed what I believed was a line, but the majority of the filth ridden beasts waiting with me just piled toward the ‘bus’ slathering at their unclean mouths.

After traversing the many pitfalls of getting on to the ‘bus’, I was greeted by a strange grunting hair covered animal locked in a perspex cage, who it seemed was being forced to operate the bus against it’s will, as he was extremely agitated. I stated my destination, and was met with a strange growling sound, which I managed to decode as a request for financial recompense. I slid a shiny coin into the slot half way down it’s cage, quickly withdrawing my fingers before they could be mauled, and took my ‘ticket’. I was then ushered on to the ‘bus’

It was like nothing I’d ever seen, and the smells, I can’t even describe them. One of the creatures on board was sitting with it’s face toward the ground, casually spitting on the floor, which I assumed was some kind of bizarre bus ritual, but I didn’t dare ask. As the ‘bus’ pulled away, large piles of litter clattered around the floor, to the sound of common people discussing soaps, or their lives, I’m not sure which. Fluids were everywhere, it could have been from the cans of softdrink discarded on the floor, but the smell suggested otherwise.

I’d seen enough, and I had to leave. Frantically I searched for escape, when I noticed one of the animals pressing a button on one of the support structures of the ‘bus’, which I assumed was a way of requesting help. Curious, I moved toward the bell. It was filthy, and conscious of touching it with my bare skin for fear of infection, I rolled my sleeve down over my hand, reached out cautiously, and pressed it.

Muttering ensued, a sense of discontent. I’d angered them, and they could smell my fear. The animal in the cage at the front became enraged, I’d done something wrong. Was I wrong to have pressed the button? What could this mean? The ‘bus’ shuddered and began to slow, I looked ahead and could see another ‘bus stop’, Salvation! But I sensed I didn’t have much time. They were beginning to move, what seemed like hundreds of them, all moving toward me? No, not toward me, toward the door, they were going for the door. I began to sweat, the smells around me were overpowering, and I longed to be back in my car, with my air conditioning, my seats that weren’t covered in piss, and a soundtrack other than the miserable drone of common people.

The ‘bus’ stopped, and if I hadn’t wanted to get off, it wouldn’t have mattered, the tide took me that way regardless. I was discarded on the road, as the filthy peasants I had just been imprisoned with filtered off in their various directions, each of them with murder in their eyes. It took a few minutes to get my head straight “What…the fuck….just happened to me?” I thought.

After what seemed like an age, I got up from the floor, and called for a taxi to take me back to safety. It was a horrible experience, but not one I’m sorry I lived through, because now I know what’s going on.

So, with all this in mind, I ask you, why the fuck are these horrifically deformed scumbags given priority on our roads? They clearly don’t have jobs, they clearly have nowhere to go, and they clearly are no better than animals, so surely we should be forcing them on to some sort of sub-road that is used for cattle and refugees.

None of them are paying road tax, so they should have to walk. I think that’s fair. And take my advice, if anyone ever tries to get you on to something called a ‘bus’, run, run as fast as you can.