Not a story update, but important nonetheless!
This is the tale of the Greyhound from Hell.
You see, once upon a time, a foolish motherfucker decided to take a trip on a bus. Not his usual fare, the short bus, but rather a Greyhound. Typically, this motherfucker had pretty good luck with his travels, slight delays at most. But he was in for it, oh yes he was. For he was about to take the San Bernardino Hellhound.
What was once a hopeful trip, sparked by the consumption of edibles, turned into a dastardly and nasty affair. Black ice plagued the roads, and the people on the bus began to grow reckless. Cars crashed, and drew the freeway to a grinding halt.
The poor motherfucker tapped his foot impatiently, as his stomach began to grumble.
intercom crackles
The motherfucker heard the cheery voice of the driver, and hoped for the best.
"Well, I don't know what to say, folks, but if you're in the industry as long as I've been, then you know the people who have it the worst out here are the truck drivers, who can't meet their mileage quotas because of the black ice."
The motherfucker rolled his eyes, as the guy next to him complained loudly on the phone.
"This driver nigga keeps talking about shit we don't care about. I wanna hear about detours and shit."
The bus shuddered to a complete stop, and remained that way for fifteen minutes, while the men who'd consumed the edibles in the backseat began to shake. The poor motherfucker realized he was now trapped between a mountain and edible crazed men, with no discernable way out. Another thirty minutes passed before he came to his senses, and realized that he had been cannibalizing his own thumb.
The bus began moving slowly again, and the motherfucker got his hopes up again. He released the grip on the man who was unlucky enough to be sitting next to him, leaving the man dead in the bus aisle, bruises on his throat. Despite having committed murder, everyone else on the bus was so frustrated that they turned a blind eye. The bus was moving slowly, but more consistently now, and the motherfucker couldn't help but wonder whether his personal hellhound was finally finished. But as they slowed down to a stop again, he knew the truth.
The motherfucker spotted a lone car sitting on the side of the road, having slipped off the icy path. He wished them a swift death.
As the bus crept its way past the first mile marker in nearly an hour, the dead body in the aisle began to look rather appetizing. He considered walking to a nearby gas station, but when he looked out his window, he realized he was beyond the point of return. The snow and ice was far to treacherous to traverse.
The motherfucker began to fantasize now, about taking over the bus and barreling through the traffic, taking the driver's skullcap and turning it inside out to use it as his new beanie. He imagined all the other cars exploding on impact with the bus at his command, and their inhabitants being sent straight to hell. It helped pass the time.
The bus began to move again, and the motherfucker finally seemed to be home free. As the hellhound rolled up to the bus station, the motherfucker stepped off, glad to be rid of the infernal trap. He checked his phone. A four hour journey had turned into an eleven hour one.
