Fear and Loathing in Los Angeles – Part 2

 

I have never been to Hell, but I am sure the bus ride home, that unusually sunny, winter day had to share some similarities to the fiery depths of Satan’s lair. The world seemed to be spinning out of control from my point of view. I had buried myself as far in the back of this transit nightmare as I could. The others on the bus can hear my thoughts, I know it. Can sense my build up to insanity. They seemed to be watching me…or am I just being swept up in paranoia? Each time the doors open at a stop, my muscles tense as I debate bounding from this hell ride on wheels and escaping into the city, before I am leveled to a slobbery, blubbery mess on floor stained with dirt and old soda pop. I grip the seat and beg for strength to get just a little further.

To be continued shortly….