• Rate your driver - (humorous short story I wrote while being drunk)
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Rate your driver Jason Goodman, the kindest chauffeur one could possibly be found to be driven by in a bus around the city of Namora. Would one have the privilege to enter his bus, whether taken to work or school, it would most certainly be very pleasant. This you could even see if you focused your eyes on the right side of the bus on the outside, where you would find a marking, a number, indicating the pleasantness and anger management control of the driver of this particular transportation vehicle. A pleasant driver would have a green mark with a number which is controlled by the passengers cellphones. One click on thumbs up would indicate you had a pleasant surprise with the drivers conduct and behavior which would raise the number with 1. Would one encounter the vile and wretched Claud Mertens on the other hand, the ride would most likely be a journey consisting of a struggle in psychological stress. William Smith was standing by the bus stop, hoping his journey to work would not be agonizing mental torture. He noticed the people around him started seeing the bus arriving, though he could not see this for himself because of the crowd now proclaiming in non-verbal language that this is their piece of owned ground, a bio-production facility of vision obstruction. Many sighs were heard and wristwatches were looked at. “Oh no, no, NO!” someone yelled out from the crowd as a man ran from the scene. Crap, that was the word that sailed through Williams head at the moment, he knew what was coming. The red marked minus 487 on the bus caught Williams eyes to which he too, looked at his watch but had to endure the bus ride in order to arrive in time. The doors open as the sound of air pressure mixed itself with the sense of smell. It smelled like death. Before he took his first step on the bus, he took a deep breath and entered the foul smelling hell that was about to commence. “Keep yourself in the back you defecating ghouls of vomit-stained blabbering!” was yelled from the front. “So I don't get an ear infection from your egg-rotten ramblings!”. In silenced fear some of the passengers moved back in the bus where the silent cries of a younger man started to slip through his hand covered face. The velocity far exceeded the maximum speed limit as shivering prayers began by some of the christian inhabitants of this atrocious vehicle ride. One of them succumbed to apostasy with an emotional breakdown, letting out “There is no God!” with the saddest sound of sobbing one could ever hear. We were about to arrive at the next bus stop, the atmosphere changed as people silently cheered. William himself envied the individuals who had the blessed fortune of having this stop as the end of their destination. No man deserves this cursed trip through hell. People were fleeing the area as they recognize the driver, anti-Christ Satan himself as the bus starts to slow down to make the stop. Should I reformulate this somehow? Add something? Remove something? Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
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