Friday, January 21, 2005


On the Bus

“Is this the bus for heaven?” Sanctiblogger asked the driver, a surly-looking angel with dirty wings.

The angel spoke through a smoldering stump of cigar. “Yeah, that’s what the sign says, doesn’t it, pal?”

Sanctiblogger sighed, and climbed on board. Getting fired. Of course, getting fired from Sufi University means you’re dead. He knew that all along. But somehow, it just hadn’t seemed real until now.

“Hey, pal,” the surly angel barked. “Deposit your fare.” He indicated a vacuum hose.

“My, ummm, fare?” Sanctiblogger asked.

“Yeah, your fare. Are you stupid or something? Your mortal spirit. Suck it out.”

So Sanctiblogger put his mouth to the tube. With a great WHOOSH his mortal spirit was sucked out. He suddenly felt much lighter. Like he’d lost twenty pounds or taken a great huge shit or something.

He looked around the bus. Only two other passengers, who seemed to be asleep. One of them was clutching a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. Drool was running out of his mouth as he snored through his nose. The snores caused the line of spittle to jiggle each time he exhaled. The other passenger was a beautiful young woman, wearing shorts and a halter top or sports bra or something. Her head lolled to one side, leaning up against the window. As she breathed in sleep, the window would fog up and clear, fog up and clear.

Sanctiblogger took a seat in the back, away from the others where he could see out the rear window clearly. He opened his bag and took out his laptop. Wonder if I can get WiFi here? He wondered. Ha. Sure enough. Now, let’s Google “heaven bus” and see what’s up. Sure enough, a website, appeared. He clicked on it. A live webcam showed the view from the front of the bus, where the angel with dirty wings sat driving, all the way back to where Sanctiblogger could see himself looking at the computer.

But something was wrong. The other two passengers didn’t appear on the screen. In their place were two different passengers sitting in different places. In fact, one seemed to be sitting right next to Sanctiblogger. A hugely fat man with big white whiskers. But Sanctiblogger looked to his left, where the man appeared on the screen, and there was nothing.

How odd, he thought.

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