Hell, as they say is other people. Especially when you are a school bus driver. -- Knitnan
The chant had started from the back of the bus. "We wanna, we wanna, we wanna wee! If you do not stop for us/ we'll do it on the bus!" The otherwise well-behaved kid in the front seat was singing X-1 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. The crowd of kids sharing music were singing both off key and out of sync. The people in the seat three rows from any given exit were having a screaming row about a pencil case.
All things considered, the heart attack was a welcome respite. Gary still did his duty, though. He pulled into the nearest emergency stopping bay and opened the doors before darkness claimed him and the pain floated away.
GARY FRANCIS BAKER, said a voice like a sepulchure. YOUR TIME HAS ENDED.
Gary looked down at the slumped form at the bottom of his bus' stairs. He should have been disturbed that this entity knew his full name, something that had caused endless tortures during his school years. He should have been upset that only just now, one of the school's adult chaperones had left the bus to attempt CPR. But all the bits he had to be upset with were slowly beginning to rot on the overheated tarmac.
"You aren't going to make something out of my name?" he asked.
I SUPPOSE I COULD TRY FOR A PUN IF IT MAKES YOU MORE COMFORTABLE, said Death. He should have been frightening, but Gary couldn't really summon fear. I'M VERY BAD AT THEM SO I TRY TO AVOID THEM.
"Oh good." His life had not been the most virtuous, come to think of it. "Um. I'm... not going to Heaven, am I?"
ACTUALLY, YOU ARE A SPECIAL CASE. ACCORDING TO OUR RECORDS, YOU HAVE ALREADY SPENT YOUR TIME IN HELL.
Oh. Well that was all right then.
: My contemporaries actually chanted this on long field trips.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / AlphaBaby]
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