Bus 721

Teenage girl.

Screeching on the bus.

She spits rhetoric about fighting other whores.
All for us, all for her mother.

That toothless progenitor picks up a cigarette off the floor.

Looking about to see if any of us had dropped the filthy thing.

She, or perhaps I should say, it, passes that doubly dreaded death to her bleach blond offspring.

How sweet.

My mind spins as I think of the super bugs breeding on the bed of the bus.

I’m sure she’s immune.

God help us, for cockroaches and human scum will be the only things remaining after pandemic and nuclear holocaust.

Mother is a creature to put Bosch to shame. Chin jutting out, concave face, thick glasses set upon a prune nose.

Poor people.

The only thing they seem to do with any success is breed and eat.
This is survival of the fittest gone mad.

These parasites.

They never had a chance.