The grandpa was a homo, fobby man, the oldest–white for sure, Nine passengers set sail that day, for a sixty hour tour, a sixty-hour tour…
The bus A/C went out of whack, the tiny bus was cold, If not for the jackets of the frigid crew, their nipples would be bold; the guides’ heads would have rolled.
The ship took ground on the side of a well-traveled city street, with Ham Sup Lo, and big head too, the Grandma Wen, and her mom, short PetezMaru, Pink, BabaGoo and Leney too, here on the Canadian Tour…
I woke up with a start and a urgency in my loins. Lower back and neck pains trouble me on long trips where I have to sleep sitting up, so I wasn’t surprised at the aching I felt.
I walked to the back of the bus to relieve myself. I excused myself to my compatriots who watched me enter. “It’s an emergency I said, I’ll try to make it quick.” We were instructed only to use the bathroom in the direst of needs–I couldn’t help myself.
Entering the bathroom, I ripped off a couple squares of toilet tissue and unzipped. I unholstered my equipment, grasping it with the soft paper and began my work.
I was midway through when the bus started to break violently, throughing me back and forth against the walls of the bathroom. I was loathe to touch the walls, so at first I didn’t brace myself at all. Instead, I relied on expert aim and balance to make the mark. My efforts seemed in vain when the bus suddenly turned and stopped, throwing any steadiness I had kept away.
“Jamie, we’re here. Get off the bus.”
‘Damn!’ I said to myself. Carefully I mopped the stray beads from the walls and hurried out of the bathroom and off of the bus.