Eating on the Bus

“Miles is on the bus,” said one of riders of the bus.

“Really?” Asked the driver.

“He’s right there,” said the rider as he pointed to the back.

And sure enough, there he was, Miles, flat on his back with his eyes closed.  He laid across the seat as if he was a sated lion with a bloated stomach stretched out along the limb of a tree.  He slowly raised his hand directly over his body and, after a pause, waved.

“How did you get back there?  You didn’t ride the bus today,” puzzled the driver.

“Oh, I hid under the seat after I rode the bus the day before yesterday, when you pulled into the garage,” said Miles.

“You have been on the bus for three days?” Asked the driver.

“Oh, yes.”

“But how did you survive?” Asked the driver.

“Oh, I simply ate the seat in front of me.  While I was hiding underneath, I started a small hole which I continued to make larger.  I just kept picking at it until I could get to the soft insides.  I just simply saved the chewy outside for last.  It’s my favorite, the outside,” replied Miles.

“Really?”

“Don’t worry.  I got my fiber, bus driver,” replied Miles.

“From a bus seat?”

“Well, there’s a plank of wood on the bottom, you see.  It’s really quite tasty, don’t you know?” Smiled Miles, matter of factly.

“Ah, okay.  What about you’re parents?  Where are they?  Don’t they miss you?”

“Oh, they’ll be along,” said Miles, chewing on the strip of green, vinyl skin.

It was then the bus driver noticed the empty metal skeleton of a bus seat in front of Miles.

“So, I see you have finished my seat,” noticed the bus driver.

“Someone told me it was made of chocolate.  So, I thought upon an experiment,” replied the laying child.

“Well, I hope it was good,” said the driver.

“Oh, yes, very, but they lied, bus driver.  Your bus is not made of chocolate.”

“Really?  What is it was then?” Asked the bus driver.

The boy took an second, then smiled and said, “Licorice.”

The whole bus reacted with a big “eeeewwww,” “yuck,” “licorice?”

“You like licorice, Miles?” Asked the driver.

“Yes sir, black, please,” said Miles.

A girl piped in, “Black is yucky!”

“I like red,” said the boy who pointed.

“Yes, red is good, but black is what licorice is supposed to be,” said Miles. 

One boy in front of the bus piped in, “Hey, guys.  This one tastes like cake.  I think it’s Angel Food.”

Suddenly, the children ripped into every seat, announcing to the world each and every splendid flavor discovered, both sweet and savory.  All the while, sharing each fluffy flavor with the bus driver.  Old Willie Wonka could not have been happier, watching them ripping apart and enjoying the bus.  

Finally, someone piped in, “Hey, wow!  This is great!  This seat is made of chocolate.  The bus is made of chocolate!”

And with that, they all left the bus, satisfied, leaving the bus driver, all alone with a skeleton of a bus and foamy flavors of ghostly delights.  The bus driver stood there, standing on his bus, astonished to realize that a chunk of memory foam pillow, a pillow that was on the driver’s bed, would actually have an after taste of chocolate.