The Book Bitch

Lisa got down from the bus and waited for the porter to get her suitcase out of the belly of the bus.

She imagined the bus as some ancient leviathan, ferrying passengers from unknown places to where they were actually meant to be, swallowing them up and regurgitating them at their destinations.

She was still lost in her thoughts when she noticed the porter was looking at her.

He was also saying something.

She switched her mental frequencies back to Planet Earth and heard the words, "...is this your bag?"

It was and it wasn't.

It was the only bag left there and it looked remarkably similar to her own bag. But there were certain things that were missing. Her "Book Bitch" badge that was supposed to be on the side of the bag and another label that simply said "Prose Before Hoes". They were missing, ergo, this bag was not hers.

But it was the only bag left and she was the only passenger left, so it had to be hers.

She was still confused at what to say when the porter placed the bag near her. "Look, miss, I can't wait here forever. We need to get the bus cleaned up for the return journey."

"Buh-but, I don't think that th-this is my bag!" Lisa said.

"Well, I don't really care," the porter scratched his nose, "it is totally your problem now."

Anger, like a flash flood, roared through her ears and she slammed the first thing she had in her on the porter's face. It was a hardcover of "Of Human Bondage".

"Ow," the porter yelled, "bitch! Why'd you do that for!"

"You lost my fucking bag, you numbskull dimwitted dumb motherfucker. I only have this book with me and some stranger's bag. How else the fuck do you suppose I will feel. I'd shove this book up your ass but I am not done reading this."

"Jesus, woman. Look into the bag if it's not yours. Maybe someone has your bag and they have their contact information somewhere in there."

"I was going to do that only," she lied, "once you got the fuck out of my face."

The porter's nose was bleeding badly by now and he looked like a cartoon vampire with blood streaming down his chin. He held on to his nose with one hand and shot her the finger with the other hand.

"Good luck," he mumbled, "bitch."

Lisa raised the hardcover to hit him again, but he was already scuttling off like a beaten puppy. She picked up the bag and took it to the bus shelter next to the bus stop.

Deep breathes, she told herself. Deeeeep breaths.

Once she had calmed down enough, she opened the bag. It was a simple bag with a zipper on top that opened up to reveal different compartments in the bag. She knew because her bag was the same and she had kept some of her best books in the bag. The other books were going to reach her university residences through a book porting company.

But this bag, it was full of knives. All gleaming clean and sharp with the promise of bloodshed. There were all kinds of knives in the bag. From tiny scalpels to a large butcher's knife. There was a swiss knife neatly tucked into a pouch meant for keeping pens and there was a bowie knife placed at the bottom of the bag. There were knives she had never seen and some knives that didn't even look remotely like a knife. Some knives were only blades and the others were only ornate, complex and futuristic looking handles.

There was an ID card in the bag. She picked it up and looked at the man in the picture.

"Fuck me," she sighed.

--
"Son, would you be a darling and peel this apple for me?"

Their car was stuck in traffic and they had not moved an inch in the last one hour. Mr. Kosmos took the apple from her mother and opened the zipper of his bag that was lying under his seat. He took out the first thing that his hand chanced upon. It was not a knife, it was a book.

"Fuck me!" he yelled out of sheer shock of WTF.

Mr. Kibbles woke up in his mother's lap and hissed at him.

----------------------------------------
So, we got the train rolling once again. Two in two days! This is going along nicely, no? There might be some discrepancies here and there, but I'll apply my Author's License there.

Any feedback, comments, criticisms? Leave me a comment!

Thanks for reading!

Mother

The last few hours home are always the longest. Mr. Kosmos drove with his hands on ten and two position on the wheel, but his mind was elsewhere.

The road became a blur in his head. The scenery whipping past, with the sameness that bordered on dejected boredom. He kept thinking about the girl who had gotten him thrown off the bus. He'd have to go back and exchange a word or two with the girl about her behavior. He made a mental note about visiting the bus company and finding out the girl's home and office address.

A road sign coming up in the distance caught his eye and shook him out of his mental reverie. He turned the steering wheel and took a road that led to the village where his mother lived. It had been some time since he had visited her and it irked his conscience that he was not visiting he at a better time. He had picked some cookies for her from the bakery next to his office. He knew she liked the coconut flavored cookies. He didn't know how long he was going to stay with her, but he had taken the week off from work and he had the time.

He took another turn and headed for the road to his mother's house. He smelled the smoke before he saw the flames rising in a distance. His heart dropped in the pit of his stomach like a brick and his foot automatically pressed harder on the accelerator.

There was a small crowd gathered outside his mother's house. The house, or what remained of it, was up in flames. The fire danced devilishly on the doors, windows, and walls of the house. He hurried out of the truck and ran towards the house, scanning through the crowd for some face he knew or someone who'd give him some information on what had happened here.

Then he saw his mother standing there with her shawl wrapped on her shoulder and her infernal cat nestled in the crook of her arm. He breathed for the first time since he had seen the smoke. He almost wanted to fall down on his knees and start crying but he knew mother would hate that.

His mother had the most beatific smile on her face. He went to her and tried to hug her but the cat hissed at him.

"Hello, son," his mother said as she shusshed the cat in the same breath.

"Mother...what happened here? Are you ok?"

"I am fine. Absolutely fine. I just set fire to the house to get rid of the rats in there."

"Mom?"

"Oh, you know, I can't have Mr. Kibbles running around under the house hunting rats! He is too precious to be doing that." She stroked the cat's head and the animal purred.

Mr. Kosmos felt a nerve flicker in his head.

"Well, I think I'll come and stay with you for some time then."

She started walking towards the truck. "Get my bags, dear."

Mr. Kosmos looked at the five bags that were neatly arranged near to where his mother was standing.

He sighed and picked up the first bag.

It was heavy.

Still Here, Still Alive

Man, last post on this blog was on April 29! Makes me sad. I've been busy. BUT, I've been writing poems on my Poetry blow, www.fubarpoems.blogspot.com, so if you're of a poetic bent of mind, you can head over there and have a look.

Why didn't I update this blog, when I updated Poetry quite a lot. Well, first off, I wanted to write more about Mr. Kosmos and his adventures/misadventures, but the story somehow didn't lift off the way I wanted it to. Life got in the way, I got busy with things like making some money and paying my bills and let's not beat around the bush, you can't really force your mind to be creative when you're living a dull, insipid life. But that's how it goes. If a story needs to be told, it will be told, but if it doesn't, you can bleed at the keyboard and not write another word. Because if you force it, it will show.

So, what now. Either I start writing shorts here again or I pick this one up and take it to its rightful end. I am not really sure what I will do, but I am just throwing some kindling on the dying embers of this blog and fanning the flames a bit. Maybe I'll rant here. Maybe I'll write the story in next post. I have a few ideas floating around in my head. None of which would make anyone happy, but I doubt if anyone is reading blogs these days. People are busy dying while catching pokemon and getting fucked up offended by opinions of strangers on social media, or they're spreading misinformation and stupidity through facebook and whatsapp.

I seriously think they should take a written as well as a psychological profile test before giving people an Internet connection. This will not only improve the state of online discourse but it will also help to weed out the mentally ill people in society and we can then send them off to gas chambers...

But stories, oh yeah, we write stories on this blog.

Be back with that shit in a while. Kick me in comments if I don't write here in two days from now.