After thirty-six years of hard living I knew one thing for sure… The last thing I’d blow fifty grand on was a new Mercedes Benz with a diesel engine capable of surpassing the pollution created by eight city buses. But then again, I don’t have fifty grand. If I did, I doubt if this story would be called, “Doctor Daddio Takes The Bus.”
That being as it is, or be that as it may, I looked in the mirror and told myself to “Have a jolly day.” I put on my red shades, turned up the collar of my trench coat and boarded the downtown bus… which just happened to be powered by a Mercedes diesel engine.
On this day I was lucky enough to sit inside the bus. I got to share a seat with a 680-pound man, or woman… I couldn’t tell which…I guess it doesn’t matter. Especially enjoyable was the aroma of grilled cheeseburgers as it lay like fog upon the unwashed skin of the round, human person.
I wondered if it was full grown? Was it hungry now? I thought... it was probably always hungry. I wondered if I should interfere and reveal to this person the key to the universe, which of course, is that 2 apples plus 2 apples is not 4… but 4 apples. Or perhaps I would have an easier time imparting this wisdom teaching if I use cheeseburgers instead of apples?
I decided against it since the need for oxygen was becoming more and more important as my insignificant, little speck of a body panted and turned a lovely shade of severe purple with pink and blue overtones. I tried to think of open meadows.
4th Street finally came and as I shot forth from the bus like a bullet shot from a gun, I kissed the ground and gulped the smoky air. As I did, a woman wearing 4 inch high heels stepped on my left hand and crushed it,
never stopping as she galloped past me in hot pursuit of her runaway white French Poodle. I could hear her shouting voice grow softer as I writhed in pain on the sidewalk…
“Fifi! Fifi! You bad doggie! Come back here!! Bad doggie!!!
Firkin Poodles.
I liked Wheaties. I was glad I had my Wheaties that morning. Traveling to work is so enjoyable… almost as thrilling as the joy of working itself! I was lucky to be working. I was thankful for my 48 superiors, and I was privileged to say “Good morning!” to each as I made my way down the endless corridor to the end… and then left, to the Men’s room. Gotta love them Wheaties.
Time passed. My body weight dropped by 8 pounds. The price of gas rose to 7 bucks a gallon. AM-PM lowered its price on cheeseburgers from 2 for 99 cents to 8 for a quarter. There was widespread panic. Many lives were lost.
I finally emerged from the John and soon after, my bosses recalled who I was and fired me. Depressed and dejected, I thought, “Life’s a bitch… and then you reincarnate.”
It was time to go home. Time flies when you’re having fun.
On the way home, I stopped to cash my final paycheck at AM-PM. I purchased 487 cheeseburgers, which I gave as an offering to the round human person, who, as it happens, was still on the bus… apparently to make my day and my ride back home on the chariots of smoke a little nicer.
About 20 minutes later, the round human person suddenly exploded in the middle of its 193rd burger. As it lay there, I kneeled over and asked if I could help…did it have any last requests? With a Herculean effort it leaned up slightly, muttered one final sentence, then promptly died.
The sentence was… “Pass me a cheeseburger.”
The remainder of the journey home was still smoky… but cheerful and airy.