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Tales from the Short BusThe wheels on the Bus go 'round and 'round . . . until they run over a little kindergarten child crossing the street

by  Dr. Salami


In the history of human civilization, the oral tradition of telling a good story is almost as precious as the ability to ignite one’s own flatulence. I present to you the following account of bravery, valor, and complete disregard for the English language. In a way, you could consider it an epic poem (like Homer’s Illyad or Odyssey) or even a recipe for deviled ham with a slight hint of parsley. 


It was Friday afternoon around ten to four on a mildly cold day on the outskirts of Lake County. I, the vigilant short-bus driver, was preparing to celebrate the end of another grueling work week. I had one last person to pick up before I could call it a day. I arrived at the house at four p.m. The passenger had a requested drop-off time of four-thirty at the mall about thirty-five miles away. I already knew we would not be making it on time. The boy rolled out on to the frozen ground in his electric wheelchair (what some might call a Gimprolet or Cripple Cadillac—not me, mind you) , and I prepared the lift so that he could get on the bus. Then my world would come to a halt as I discovered what the boy’s purpose for traveling was. He was leaving his sleepy little hick-town to experience a benchmark in movie-making……Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo.

D.O.B. -- Dany's on Board

A bus like the one Dr. Salami drives. It looks much like HogWild's Jammy: Short and Awkward.


Once I learned of this , I became resolute in my dedication to my career (which had until then been little to none). I would do everything in my power to help this poor kid get to that movie on time. I quickly fastened the chair to the floor with what could best be described as "old guy suspenders" and we were on our way. I breezed through his backwater town (the kind where the traffic lights are the hot spots to hang out and teeth are considered FLASHY jewelry) and hopped on the freeway. The only way I was ever going to possibly come within a hair of making it was to apply my knowledge of physics. I know of two basic principles…1: Speeding is a good way to get somewhere in a hurry and 2: my new jockey underwear tend to ride up my crack. So I pressed the pedal to the metal and my ass to the seat. To survive the gauntlet that is Ohio drivers would require nerves of steel and nipples of faith.


I was halfway there at about four-fifteen, all the while swerving through traffic like a drunken Christian Slater. I narrowly avoided ominous Dodge Omnis and cunning motor homes. It was like a scene from the movie Speed. I pictured Sandra Bullock in a tight white shirt sitting on my lap (but then I think of that maybe ten times a day). I never really used my rear view mirror much, but I did today. I noticed the overgrowth of eyebrow hairs that were turning my forehead into an area rug. The comparison could be made that the bus was like a camel and I, the smelly camel driver (it’s been said before) trekking across the third-world conditions that are Ohio. I glanced back and caught an optimistic smile from the handicapped boy in steerage (the section of the bus that is often inhabited by roaches). Perhaps we would make it after all!


Camels are simply ugly horses with humpbacks. Just like Ricki Lake is an ugly WOMAN with 2 lumps of lard on her back.


I exited the freeway at four-twenty, having traveled about the distance an Ohio highway patrolman travels in an average workday. We pulled into the mall parking lot with five minutes to spare. I lowered him onto the hallowed ground outside of the movie theater…right onto a crushed nacho carton full of cigarette butts…..oops. As he drove his motorized throne into the entrance, I pondered the importance of what I had done. Usually I pick up people who need to empty their pee-bags at the dialysis clinic or alcoholics with suspended licenses who need to get to work on time (per their probation). But none of that seemed relevant in light of the great service I had provided today. Sure, there were casualties along the way. Several squirrels had been mashed (providing sustenance for the degenerates who populate the hills next to the freeway). And I flipped the bird to a priest; but he shouldn’t have been pulled over to the shoulder fixing a flat! I need the shoulder to pass people!! It was worth it though.

warranty of 8 years, or 80,000 curious staresdeep dish chrome wheels at additional cost

Left, the Lexus LX-450 with front wheel suspension, four wheel drive, and driver's side airbag. Right, the BMW I-series XL featuring automatic door locks, sunroof, and extra-large cup holders. The ultimate personal driving machine.


I had brought this child to paradise; much like a Muslim embarks on a pilgrimage to Mecca. Was the movie good? Probably not (it stars Rob Schneider for Christ’s sake). Did he attempt the popcorn trick with his female companion? Only they and a disgusted usher know the answer to that. All I know is that I had done my duty and even before the previews started.


I’ve never really been proud of anything I’ve done, but now I have something I can tell my children (or a hooker).

I was like Babe Ruth (without the booze and immense libido) hitting a home run for the little boy in the hospital having plastic surgery to give him that "Matt Damon" look. I don’t deserve sainthood or anything; maybe they could name a rest stop after me or a style of sweater (dweeb-knit?). Maybe people will develop a new-found respect for the short bus (sure). In the end what matters is that I risked life and limb to take a disabled adolescent to a cheesy, sophomoric movie that will teach him that women are sex objects and ugly dudes can date them. Amen, for I have done the Lord’s work this day.

spastic plastic

"Special Needs" Barbie. Poor Bim is paralyzed from the waist down. It's just as well, she was born without a VAGINA!

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