Thursday, October 15, 2009

Mr. Sadistic Public School Bus Driver

I like having my kids hostage in the car for 20 minutes every morning. 

It makes me kind of happy to drive them to school after they re-appear at the front door, hangdog pissed and sweaty, because the Mr. Sadistic Public School Bus Driver, who never shows up at the same time window every day, gunned it, and sped away laughing while they sprinted vainly toward the wheeled yellow tube of doom.

How'd you know he was laughing?

I saw his teeth!

They could actually see the demonic glint of his perfect white teeth as he rolled by, air brakes huffing and squealing in delight. He stops patiently for the 300 pound teen mother down the way barrelling down the sidewalk in flip flops with her massively stuffed land yacht stroller. Not even sure if there is a baby in there.  He stops for the bespectacled kid with the bird nest hair and the inhaler. He even stops for the Emo stoners who slouch their way up to the bus at a glacially relaxed sub-warp speed.

I suppose Mr. Sadistic Bus Driver thinks he is helping build character in my two unfairly and freakishly normal straight-A no rap sheet /criminal record, un-pregnant, non-knife-wielding sober pleasantly affable kids who do sports. Or, he knows I won't sue him and appear on Channel 6  all indignant and weepy in my nightgown complaining that, "Ah'm just doin' this here lawsuit so it don't happ'n to anyone else's kids. And for the money so' Ah kin donate some to Brother Bobby down there at church and have mah long awaited varicose vein surgery that those bastards at Medicaire won't cover!" Springer? Springer? Bueller?

I really try not to show the kids my oppositionally defiant tendencies with propped up power munching authority figures, but it is all I can do not to indulge out loud my current fantasy.  It would give me such pleasure to track that bus halfway to school, jack it, spin gravel into the face of the now duct-taped supine driver left on the side of the road on a fire ant hill and give all those kids the ride of their short tawdry little lives! That is after I give them my What the hell are you thinking? Cut the crap!  Quit being such dumbasses and wise up!  "talk".

Hey Mom you just ran over something.


No it was metallic.

Robot squirrel.


Come on! Blurt, rant or engage in verbal disrobement! Anything goes, so indulge yourself right here, right now.

I'm listening.