It's a beautiful world

The thunder forced me to take the bus the other day, as I feared its comrade in destruction, lightning, would finally get its wish and strike me down. As the rain pelted the lumbering vehicle I sat and stared at my fellow passengers, who were the usual assortment of hideous humans I so despise. On this day in particular though, one fellow stood out. He seemed to me to be the ugliest person in the world. Of course I am referring to outer beauty, or lack thereof. On the inside he may have been beautiful, as if that mattered. No good deed he may have ever performed could make up for the hideousness that was his everything else.

I turned away from him in disgust, wishing a thunderbolt would blast open a bus window and vaporize him. Soon my eyes found the shaved head of another passenger, which was adorned with a tattoo of a hand grenade. I found him fascinating. He also had a tattoo of a fetus in a jar on his neck. Clearly he was an art lover. He was talking to himself and so I snapped out of my visual reverie to listen to his thoughts.

"Dick Cheney is the anti-christ, not me man."

It was then I realized that he was not talking to himself, but was in fact conversing with a little man holding a big cross, who returned his rebuke of Cheney with an accusation. "You are a sex demon!"

They both seemed to make good points. I was impressed. Usually the shouting matches on the bus are full or irrational nonsense, but these two gentlemen seemed to be well prepared to debate.

The guy with the skull grenade tattoo smiled wildly. "Listen Mr. Haiti Voodoo Priest. Cheney needs to go down man. If there was a Zapruder film of that asshole getting his brains blown apart I'd jerk off to it."

"Sex demon!"

Jacking off to assassination footage did seem to be evidence of a sex demon. I was going to say so when I noticed the ugliest man in the world begin to stir. It was his stop! I hoped his departure would lighten the mood, though I felt sorry for the raindrops that would soon have to alight on his disgusting form.

It must be tough to be a bus driver I thought. I would like to bar passengers for being so ugly. Even if he offered me a hundred dollars to ride I would close the door in his face, and then knowing I would probably be fired I would find the nearest pier and drive off of it. It is a good thing I did not become a bus driver.

These thoughts were interrupted when that fetus tattoo dude tapped me on the shoulder. "Hey man," he shook an opened bag of Doritos in my direction, "you want some bro?"

I longed for a knife. "I'd sooner eat a turd out of Hitler's ass."

He didn't seem to hear me.

"What?"

"Do you watch Top Chef chief?"

He seemed puzzled by my question.

"What are you talking about dude?"

"The only thing I want to eat on that show is Padma."

"Sex demon!" The voodoo priest with the big cross was shouting at us both now. "Two sex demons!"

I had a guava with me that I was planning on eating at the beach, but since the rain was not stopping and the beach was not to be I threw it at him. He tried to deflect it with his cross but I caught him right in his eye.

"Whoa." said tattoo guy.

The bus driver opened the doors and ordered me out, and though the bus was empty now save the tattoo dude and the voodoo priest, I knew that if there had been more people on board they would have cheered me. The raindrops seemed eager to wash over me, and I really did feel like a hero.