Yellow Bus

Slipped once and it would be over.

Nobody would be able prevent that, only the sole of the shoe and the mud.

Otherwise nobody would be guilty of what would then happen to Marc.

The danger was great, if he were on the ground he would never come up again. Then he wouldn’t be able to run. And he would have to before it was too late. He never trained for this in his life, he didn’t even know that such situations existed. That they exist for him too, that they would also appear in his life, goddamn it, why hadn’t he done any more sport, didn’t run any more, didn’t gain stamina? Everything would have been useful in this extraordinary situation, in which danger lurked both above and in all directions. The yellow bus floated ominously in the jungle air.

Supported by the branches of an old, rotten-looking Amazon tree, this weathered, decomposed, even mysterious structure hung down in the jungle. Sometimes it dangled in the wind, or it just cracked for no reason somewhere on the tree, and the bus would hang a little lower. Somewhere rare, colorful birds chirped briefly before they disappeared as a storm approached. Marc was right below, under this bus. Not a good choice, an idiot would now call him stupid. But he had no choice. He didn’t know what these women wanted, why they stormed him with such a strange battle cry and threw spears at him, but they did. Reason enough to be in a less dangerous, but just a little less dangerous situation. The tree was already old. The rusty bus had been hanging there for a long time.

The likelihood that it would fall at that very moment was therefore slim. With this, or a similar thought, he tried to make himself hope. It was raining and storming, it was hardly possible to open an eye without being able to witness a downright small flood up close. To have to. He could have trained for this too, at least he thought, when he was about to reproach himself. Less in front of the PC, the cell phone. Look less at the next best stare, sometimes further out, at the horizon, at the sky. Simply that way. Imagine things instead of just seeing them. Looking at things from elsewhere.

Now so many discussions occurred to him in which he was really wrong. How absurd was it that the bus would fall down just then, at the moment when one of the Amazons flanked it from behind and they would both be buried under the former vehicle? Nobody knew. But the mourning for the two was still great. Both from the surviving Amazons and from civilization. The press heard about it through a journalist who was originally supposed to make a documentary about the Amazons, and a small, insignificant editorial team wrote a front page in honor of this strange man with the inscription:

„Incredible coincidence kills innocent man“ for itself was already an outrageous gesture. The Amazon was never mentioned. Nor is the reason why she pounced on Marc. It’s a shame, because otherwise people would have found out that Marc wasn’t all that innocent.

Marc himself had no bereaved relatives, he never wanted, but he had good acquaintances who were also related to the Amazons. What a coincidence it was that his first love was also an Amazon, no, it was even the one who flanked Marc from behind and was then buried with her!

How life played so randomly… it is sometimes too silly, isn’t it?

A puzzle for some, a fun concept for others, and for others, no question about it. What could be considered for these people are only extremely important things.

Like work. Or so.

Like the editorial team of the press.

Or many other people. Work.

On a project like this. Like an … important thing.

A school! Well … there is already enough.

Then on a machine! Yes! A means of transport!

A car! No, that’s better: a bus!

They want to work on a bus. But a bit of meaning is also allowed to be included.

The crowd likes that. So it will bring money.

So a … school bus is being made. They want to work on that.

Yes, on a school bus. An American bus.

A yellow bus.

I wish you a wonderful day, stay curious, and…

Thank you for reading!

Veröffentlicht von Ventusator

Eigentlich bin ich manchmal ganz nett. Sometimes I may actually be nice.

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