Chapter 36: The Bus to Nowhere
“Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you: but ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God.” 1 Corinthians 6:9-11
The passengers filed out of the Bus to Glory, and went into the Wayside Grocery next to the gas station, to shop around or use the restrooms while Hammer pumped gas.
Luke quickly used the john, and then he went to the magazine section and looked for something to read. He leafed through a muscle mag (“You guys ain’t nothin’”), and a Basketball Digest and a Lacrosse Illustrated. He looked further and found, with surprise, that this store even carried the latest issue of Hun Monthly!128 Luke examined the contents to see if it had anything interesting. Turned out there was an article about his brother, Chief DavidGorki (injured reserve), and an interview with his Dad, all-star Chief Otis (retired), previewing his upcoming Kronkumentary. There was a point-counterpoint editorial about the benefits of a violent lifestyle (although from what Luke could gather, the Point and the Counterpoint seemed to both agree in favor of one!), and some letters to an advice columnist, seeking Hun-type counsel (Q: What do I do if I get wounded and I’m bleeding really bad? Please answer this letter promptly if possible. A: Rubbing some salt on it will take away the sting. Now quit being a baby. What did you let yourself get wounded for in the first place? Amateur. Q: Is it proper etiquette to fight with fellow Huns on the campaign trail, if they’re hoggin’ all the good treasure? And how ‘bout if yer just grouchy? A: It is proper Hun etiquette to fight for any reason whatsoever. Hop to it. Part-timer.) Luke already knew the stuff about his family, and he read as much of the other material as time allowed, and then he settled on simply buying a newspaper instead. Coz it was cheaper, so that way he could still afford a roll of wine gums and a gumball, a jujube and a licorice whip, without spending his ‘emergency money’ just yet. Then he smiled and ate some wine gums and felt blessed. (Candy always makes you happy; and if you’re already happy, it may even make you dance! Look out.)
Happy and kind, Luke offered a streamlined and sexy stranger named Vandana J129 a candy. “Care For a Wiiine Gum?” (He even whined a bit as he said it, so it was kinda like a poetry reading of sorts.) She smiled back and selected a yummy black one, and said Thanks.
Luke stepped out of the store, joy-dazed and carefree. It wasn’t just the candy making him feel like that, but the good company on the bus, and the pretty girl in the store, and most of all the exhilaration of nearing completion, and hoping to see God soon!
He looked at the sky, ominously gray and sullen; which was surprising, because it had been so fair and blue and peacefully powerful when they had gone into the store. Now it was a dull and lifeless, smoky clouded, almost-evening gray, as if there was a fog factory nearby, and a two-for-one sale on gloom, and a hurricane coming in to boot. Luke was concerned, but he jus’ figured they must be near Detroit. Distracted, he boarded the colorful bus in front of him. Later, he wished he woulda noticed, it was not a rainbow-painted bus--it was tie-dyed.
Greedily reading his sports section, Luke sat down in the front row. The driver did a quick head count, and then the bus rolled out. The atmosphere on the bus was loud and riotous, but Luke thought nothing of it, assuming that the break had simply refreshed his fellow Glory Voyagers. There was laughter and merriment, and that sounded like the same joyfulgood group with whom he had arrived.
It wasn’t until several minutes later, when Luke the Hun asked his friend Hammer’s opinion of the latest hockey trade, that he realized he had made a tragic mistake. “Hey Hammer. What do you think about the trade Penetanguishene made? They picked up Steve, who is a pretty good scorer, but they had to give up Billy the Hermit and Tie Domi.”
The driver looked back over his shoulder, and said in a strung-out voice, “You talkin’ to me man? My name is John.” Luke looked up then from his newspaper and saw the curly brown locks and the cheap goatee, and the faraway bloodshot eyes, and for the first time he lost his oblivion and realized, Hey This Ain’t The Right Bus!
He looked behind him, and he didn’t recognize a soul. Most everyone was drinking and carousing, and flirting or more. It was a far cry from the scene he had left behind on the Bus to Glory, and their laughter had a subtly different ring: just as happy, but less honest, less pure, less sacred, less enduring. Luke was strangely quite uncomfortable, though the crowd looked like enjoyable enough company, and despite the fact that Luke had been raised in an environment of heavy drinking and merrymaking his own self. That was the past.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I believe I got on the wrong bus,” Luke politely informed the driver.
“Nope, can’t be,” the driver assured him. “I took a head count back at the gas station, and it came out right. So you must belong here...unless... Unless we left one of our people back there...” he trailed off, realizing what had happened. Shouting to his passengers, “Hey, is anybody missing? Anybody not here?”
A couple people volunteered ‘Me!’ and guffawed, but then somebody shouted out, “Citizen Samways. He got on that other bus back there.”
“So why didn’t you say something?” Driver John asked, still shouting over his shoulder, not really watching the road. When he hit gravel he remembered to drive again, and veered sharply back onto the hard-top, laughing about that too.
“Coz I thought it was funny,” the passenger called. “Besides, he kept carping our beers.130” There was a murmur of selfish assent.
Someone asked the question, “Should we go back for him?”
“Yes, please do,” Luke encouraged them, taking advantage of the chance to offer his own humble opinion. “I wouldn’t mind going back to my friends.”
The driver smiled from irony and substance abuse, and shot down that effort. “Make some new friends, man. This bus don’t turn around for nobody. We gotta get where we’re going.”
“And where is that?” Luke wondered, hoping for some insight into the nature of this tour.
The bus driver grinned with tobacco-stained teeth, and said proudly, “Nowhere.” Luke didn’t really understand why that destination would require such haste, until John elaborated, grandly: “Our Only Destination...Is Intoxication.”
When he learned that, Luke realized he could give up on them ever turning back or slowing down. “Oh well, at least we’re headed south,” he observed.
“That’s where all the good spring break parties are,” John grinned. Luke knew he had lost track of time a little at sea, but still, he was sure spring was quite a ways off. But John explained, “Better early than late, where parties are concerned, man. And better late than never.”
Since this was the bus Luke was doomed to be on, he figured he might as well do his part to keep it safe: “So you’re a partier too?” he asked the driver. “I hope you’ve heard, at least, that you shouldn’t drink and drive?”
“I have heard that…” John admitted. “That’s why I just smoke a lotta weed.”
That wasn’t quite the answer Luke was looking for. Deciding he better not distract the driver’s attention any more than it already was, Luke slunk back into the middle of the bus, to see whom else he might meet.
He met a few people, including some Italians, some Vikings, and even a couple of wayward Huns. He also met a vagrant named Sam of the Border, who looked like this: