Last year's bus driver was mean. My homies would come home everyday with stories about how he'd yell, and when he'd yell, a grey-white foam would collect in the corners of his mouth, and they said they'd stare at his teeth hanging from his gums like butter sticks.
"He doesn't brush his teeth, Mom. And, he hates kids."
"He doesn't hate you, right? You two behave, right?" I'd say.
"Oh, yes!" They'd say in unison.
I continued making them ride the bus until one day they came home and told me how the bus driver intentionally slammed on the breaks and made a bunch of the naughty kids fall from their seats onto the black, rubber floor. I called the district office and complained. Then I told my homies they didn't have to ride the bus anymore.
But now I miss how convenient the bus makes my life, so I'm making them try it again this year. After all, I rode the bus, and in exchange I received an invaluable education. I learned how to say bad words, had my first crush, and got a bus ticket for yelling "Bald Eagle!" out the window to a bald cyclist. The whole experience put hair on my chest and made me a stronger woman, so on the bus my homies go.
But on yesterday's bus ride things got a little too hairy. My homies said,
"We were really late for school."
"What happened? Did the bus breakdown?" I asked.
"No!" Jacob P. puked his brains out and it stunk up the whole bus. It smelled like goat cheese, so we rolled down the widows. Only, the hot air blowing in from the outside made the bus smell even worse."
"What did the bus driver do?" I asked.
"Well she parked in front of the church and cleaned him up. Everyone started chanting, 'No school! No school! No school!'"
"So, now you don't want to ride the bus anymore, huh?" I said.
"No. We still do. Tomorrow Zack is bringing his lizard, and he said we could pet him for a quarter."