The Taste Is Not So Sweet

I go to catch the bus today and it's pouring down rain. By the time I get to the bus stop i'm drenched head to toe and the chill is starting grip my bones. The bus hoves into view about 10 minutes late and I get on only to find that all my ex-girlfriends and one night stands are riding the bus. The icy stare of a four dozen jilted women shrinks my testicles to the size of baby peas, before they erupt in a cacophony of vile insults. All my insecurities and sexual shortcomings are outlined in vicious, succinct sentences, screeched at me above the metallic din of hundreds of coins being hurled at my face, chest, arms and crotch.

I stagger backwards down the steps and fall out of the bus onto the street, and the bus drives on, the unholy din drowned out by the renewed vigour of the rainfall. I get to my feet amidst a pile of coins, looking for all the world like a man who'd lost a fight with a slot machine. Across the street I see the new bus stop, recently completed. It has covered seating, and would probably get me home quicker, but I am fond of my routine. So I wait in the rain for the next bus. A homeless man approaches me.

"Can you spare ten dollars?"

"Not really" I reply, "but you can have these"

I gesture to the coins scattered about my feet. The old man recoils in horror. I ask him what's wrong, and he he fixes his grey, tired eyes on mine, and says

"I'm afraid of change."