The Bus To Hell

With a loud hiss and a squeak of the tires the bus stops and awaits its new passengers. As I straddled along the queue of people who, like me, are destined for a life of pain and torture, I noticed the number on the side of the bus. '666A' it said.
'Figures' I thought. Stepping on board slowly and carefully, I entered my fare into the machine situated by the driver. He/she (it?) looked at me in a dreary and cold way and as if he/she had done the task more then a million times that day, released my ticket and handed it to me without so much as a twitch of socialeness....er...socialaity...er (thesaurus anyone?), a friendly smile or a casual 'Hello'.

The bus had that kind of smell which was a mix between muddy water and early morning breath. Walking down the dirty aisle toward a vacant seat I noticed that all 750 passengers on board (OK that was a rough guess) looked as though they could have tripped up on their own sad, drooping bottom lips. The atmosphere in the air was very much not the sort of correct atmosphere you would expect at a labor club that's playing The Village People's "YMCA". Mind you, considering the destination we all faced I was very much tempted to stand in-line and protrude my lip to knee-cap level as well.

The bus pulled off and as everybody's head jerked slightly as the driver entered second gear it was clear to me now that there was no turning back. I sat on a seat close to the door, mainly for a quick getaway, next to a lonely looking man with larger than usual hands shivering together whilst holding what appeared to be a walking stick of some sort. Or maybe a baguette, I was very tired at the time. Looking out the window the world seemed to go by like a blur. Well, I say blur what I really meant was that we seemed to be traveling as fast as a tortoise that may or may not have just recently passed gas. Maybe it was the tiredness in my eyes, maybe it was the aches and pains in my mind, maybe it was the smell of warm morning musk and sweating foreheads or maybe it was the fact that it was rush hour, but it seemed to me we were going slower than usual. Funny how you notice these things when your mind's not busy.

The journey seemed to take an eternity. I could imagine what we would all face when we got to the other end: Fire and brimstone, the shells of empty bodies discarded and scattered about the place like a soggy paper bag. The greetings of our new master bellowing his voice down at us and peering into our eyes in an attempt to hypnotize us to do his dark biddings. The screams and the chaos, the torturing of human flesh and the eating of bones. It was enough to make a big man wet his big girlie knickers. Perish the thought.

Barley half an hour had passed and without even stopping at any other places I could feel us getting closer. I looked around the crowded bus and could see the other people tightening their fists over their bags and wiping their brows clean. The time had nearly arrived were we would be marched off and dealt with accordingly. There was, indeed, no way of going back now. The bus turned sharply, yet eerily slowly, left into the final street, I could see the warm light glowing at the other end through the front windscreen and I could almost feel my sanity crack.

The wheels screeched and the bus halted suddenly. I swallowed hard and slowly began to stand-up, allowing others to pass on out ready for their doom. I walked slowly down each of the steps of the bus and onto the concrete slabs below. Yet, no monsters. No fire and brimstone, no half-naked devil women to come and take me away to be whipped (shame really!). I shook my head clear of any more hellish thoughts and reached into my coat pocket. There I pulled out a plastic badge with which my name and face were illuminated onto its presence. The final few steps toward my destination seemed to last forever but I stood at the entrance of the hellish building, which strangely was made out of brick and glass windows, and gazed upon its evilness. I pushed the (revolving) door and allowed myself to enter and stood at the turnstile (OF DOOM you understand!). Taking a deep, deep breath my card swiped the machine and I ventured into the main lobby of the building.
"Morning" bellowed the security officer. Well, he actually just said it. Politely as well.

Oh the joys of working in an office