Just another day on the bus. :-)

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You could read my original short story "Transit" first, but it isn't necessary. This can be considered a "stand alone" tale. Hope you enjoy it.

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'Permanent day shift.' I thought. 'Finally!'

While I would miss Frank's curmudgeonly (yet comical) manner, his retirement meant my promotion, and the end of shift work hell. When our manager Clive confirmed I was now on days, I did a happy dance right there in his office. Okay, not the most professional behaviour, but most folks at work aren't surprised by it. I'm a bit over enthusiastic at times.

My train of thought was interrupted by the approach of the bus. As soon as it stopped, I stepped aboard and placed my ticket in the fare box. I nodded a greeting to Dean, the driver, who had made the day shift himself about a month ago. He smiled in return, but he looked a bit stressed. As I walked towards my usual seating area, I could see why.

There they were, in their usual seats at the back of the bus. I had nicknamed them the “Holy Terrors of the 4:15”. Two boys, maybe 13 or 14; looking and acting like they owned the bus. They generally alternated between trying to make themselves deaf with their MP3 players, and making obnoxious comments about anyone within their line of sight. At the moment, they were in insult mode, and made sure to let all within hearing range know what they thought of my work uniform. I tuned them out the best I could, and tried to get my temper settle down.

Dean had tried talking to the two of them on more than one occasion, but they knew that he couldn't do any more than that. As a result, they just laughed at him, and carried on with their annoying behaviour. They looked just 'gangsta' enough that they might be carrying weapons, so no one was overly eager to take them on.

At the next stop, an elderly couple boarded, and sat behind me. They seemed like really nice people, and were always quick to smile a greeting at other passengers. As expected, they didn't escape notice of the holy terrors.

“Hey, gramps!,” shouted one of them, “Ain't she a bit old for you?” His comrade laughed at that, and chimed in with “Ain't you two supposed to be in a home?” Another insult or two, and then they found another target.

I was just starting to get out of my seat to have words with them, but didn't get the chance. I heard one of the women in the seat in front of me whisper to her friend “Don't those kids respect anyone's authority? I wish someone would put them in their places.”

'Oh, damn,' I thought, as I felt the shifting of my form. 'Looks like that one is going to be granted. Oh, please, don't let this be an all day affair.'

I got up out of my seat, and headed to the back of the bus. I looked at one troublemaker, and then the other, and saw them both pale as they recognized who I was. The one on the left looked down, and I could hear him mutter “Oh, shit.”

“Yes, 'oh shit' is right,” I said. “I've heard what you and your friend have been up to. At first I didn't want to believe it, but pretty soon half the neighbourhood was talking about your antics, and I had to check it out.”

“I'm really sorry, mom,” said the dark haired youth. “And it's not like we were harming anyone. It's just...”

“Can it!!” I interrupted, my voice a harsh whisper. “You weren't harming anyone? How about the terror that you two have inflicted upon these innocent people? Is that not harm? And what about the potential danger you put yourselves in? What if someone had snapped, pulled out a gun or a knife, and did the two of you in? This bus is not going through the nicest of neighbourhoods. You two may look like members of a gang, but you most assuredly are not.”

They both looked very subdued as they processed what I had said. Both my 'son' and his friend were starting to realize the seriousness of what they had been doing.

“So,” I continued, “this is what we are going to do next. I am going to ask the driver to stop the bus. You two are going to go up there, and in very clear voices, apologize for your behaviour. No excuses, no mumbling. Say it sincerely, and mean it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma'am,” they replied in unison.

I went up and made my request, explaining the situation. Dean seemed glad to comply. I went back to my seat, and watched as the boys made their way up to the front. As they made their very sincere apologies, I felt myself shift back to my usual form.

The boys walked back to their usual seats, and were quiet for the rest of the ride.

I rang the bell about 15 minutes later, and walked to the front of the bus. “Have a good weekend, Dean,” I said, as I stepped off the bus and walked the rest of the way home.