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Liar

I greeted a new face at the bus stop today, a big, florid, puffy fellow who rather resembled a pink marshmallow. He introduced himself as ‘John,’ and said he usually rides the 12 bus. I never heard of the 12 bus, I told John, who seemed immediately scandalized, but soon took pity on me, seeing as how I sported a cane.

‘I’ve got two kids, little boys,’ he offered. When I asked their names, he seemed not to hear me. I could almost see the gears turning round inside his big head. ‘Felix and Grover,’ he said at last, with a bit of uncertainty. Pointing to my cane, he made a face. ‘What happened to you?’ he wanted to know at once. I explained my situation; he nodded impatiently and asked me, ‘What drugs do you take?’ But, when I told him, he seemed rather disappointed. Soon, our bus arrived and he gallantly stood aside to let me precede him.

When we got aboard and found our seats, John, who now introduced himself as ‘Josh,’ began a spirited conversation with Julie, an attractive and regular patron on the bus line. ‘Are you disabled too?’ he asked immediately, noting that she had a walker. When she admitted she was, he renewed his interrogation respecting drugs; he seemed much more impressed by Julie’s regimen than he had by mine. Forgetting about Julie for the moment, Josh sidled up to the front of the bus, where he engaged the driver in a prolonged conversation. The driver several times rolled his eyes or shook his head. Fatigued at last by the discussion, he eventually instructed Josh to take a seat. He did.

As we were whisked rapidly through the streets of the city, Josh turned to me and Julie, who was seated next to me, and boasted that he was going to buy a $70,000 SUV just as soon as he got his income tax return. Julie and I took in his paint splattered jeans and his tattered sneakers and his threadbare coat. Silently we exchanged a dubious glance and shrugged. Who knew? Detecting a mild skepticism on our part, Josh added that he made $60 per hour at a local warehouse that I happened to know paid just $18.

‘What do you do there?’ Julie asked. He shook his head wearily.

‘All kinds ’a stuff,’ he said, but didn’t go into detail. ‘I’m in charge,’ he added.

Julie then turned to me and asked, ‘Do you have your bus pass yet?’ It was an on-going conversation between us. I admitted that I did not. The protocol for obtaining a free bus pass for the disabled was rather a complex, drawn-out affair.

Josh popped out of his seat and flashed his own pass. ‘Got mine,’ he said smugly. He had told me at the bus stop that he had been riding the buses for only three days,,’ and then only ‘after my Cadillac broke down.’ I nodded. ‘Coup de Ville,’ he added proudly.

At length, growing tired of our company, Josh made a friendship with an elderly woman a few seats to the rear, who asked him what he did for a living. He replied with a sunny smile that he was an architect, but was taking a year-long sabbatical so he could take his wife and three daughters on an extended sojourn to Europe. He told her his name was Jeb. She remarked that it was admirable, the manner in which he cared for his family. He beamed modestly. She said no, really, it was too bad he was married, as she would like to introduce her granddaughter to such a fine young man. ‘Jeb’ told her not to fret, that he was Mormon and maybe they could work something out. ‘Do you know Mitt Romney?’ she asked. He replied that he did.

At last, Jeb’s stop was reached: Wal-Mart. No longer having time for either Julie or me or the old lady, Jeb exited the bus without a word and we watched through the window as he soon befriended a pretty young Hispanic woman in a Walmart uniform. When he had gotten up, he left behind a small glass bottle. Taking it up I read the label: Felix & Grover Gin. It was empty. The bus window was up and so we listened, with a morbid curiosity. John/Josh/Jeb asserted that he held some100 thousand shares in the company and was in fact an heir to the vast Walton holdings. The woman seemed duly impressed. He introduced himself to her as Juan.

After I got home from a boring, yet tiring job as an accountant, I settled in with the evening TV news after a cocktail or two and dinner. Wife Suzy was visiting her sister who lived across town, so I made no attempt to hide my sloth. Channel 8 news was doing its daily people feature.

‘We’ve got someone really special tonight. Jordan Figbee is a multiple threat. He set the triple jump record twenty years ago and has never been stopped. His fiction, ‘Top Of The World,’ has been on the bestseller list for twenty-three straight weeks. He’s married to movie star Jean Barlow and lives part time in their Hollywood mansion. If that isn’t enough, the Department Of Energy has accepted his proposal for an improved, more efficient atomic energy generation. Let me present to you, local hero Jordan Willsbee.

I was mildly surprised to see a man who looked nothing like the multiple personality bus rider.

About the artists

Doug Hawley is a resident of Oregon, where he lives with long time editor Sharon. He does community volunteer work and takes hikes. He also has about 1,000 publication credits.

Bill Tope is a retired caseworker, construction laborer, Hilton Hotel line cook and one-time nude model for university art classes. He lives in the American Midwest with his mean little cat Baby.