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    |  |              Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present...           |  |
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    |  |                        Bus Driver Irv                        |  |
    |  |                                                              |  |
    |  |                                         By: Corrosion        |  |
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 Jimmy howled as the Nikes, Reeboks, and assorted sneakers connected with his
head.  The kids cheering gleefully at his pain.  Irv, the bus driver was
oblivious, still glazed from last night's drinking.  He was thinking of the
woman he met at the Frosty Mug Pub.  He woke up at her grimy little apartment
this morning, and gave her a pat on her rotund ass on the way out the door.
The buzzing in his brain was getting louder, and he was welcomed back to 
reality by shrill screams.  "SHUT THE HELL UP YOU DAMN SEWER RATS!"
The kids listened. They all heard stories of Old Irv, that he liked to spend 
time with children. Too much time.  Jimmy picked himself up off the
floor of the bus and wiped the grime from his sweater.  He tasted the salty
warmth that flowed from his lip and choked back tears.  It was this same 
ritual every day.  Every day that he went to school that is, some days he
walked to school and some days he went to sit in an old treehouse at the 
abandoned farm a few blocks from his house.  He lived at the end of the bus
route, on the out skirts of the suburbs.  Jimmy stared out the window with 
thoughts of moving to another town and starting over, maybe the kids there 
would be better.  The bus shuddered to a stop and Jimmy got up, wiping the 
blood from his chin with his sleeve.  He walked up the aisle and said
"See ya, Irv." Irv looked over and his face drew into a mask of concern.
"Jezzus Christ, kid, what happened to you?"  "Nothing."   "Yeah kid, a lot 
of that kind of nothing happened to me when I was young too.  Go in and have
your Mom clean you up."  Jimmy stared at the floor and said "My Mom's at work. 
she'll be home late."  "What about your Dad?" Irv inquired.  "I don't have
a Dad, never met him." replied Jimmy.  "Well, somebody has to clean you up.  
Your eye looks like it's swelling.  I can park the bus out front.  I just 
gotta call my supervisor."  Jimmy thought of the stories for a minute, but 
said o.k. anyway.  

 Irv swung the bus to the curb and followed Jimmy into the house.  Irv noted 
it to be rather typical middle America decor, carpet wearing thin near the 
doors, and along obvious high traffic areas.  Jimmy dropped his book bag near 
the kitchen and showed Irv where the phone was. The phone bill hadn't been 
paid in months.  Irv frowned, and proceeded to wipe the boy's face with
an antiseptic soaked cotton ball.  Jimmy winced in pain, and ran into his 
room lying on a couch placed where a bed should be.  Irv wandered 
in and took a seat on a mismatched recliner.  "You've got a lot of furniture 
in here, kid."   "Yeah.  Better than having friends." Jimmy said.  The two 
were quiet for a minute until Irv asked "How do you figure?"  Jimmy looked
straight at him for the first time, right into his eyes.  Irv found it mildly
disturbing.  "Well, they always listen, and they always want to play with 
you... 'cept when Mom's home.  They don't like Mom."  Irv's eyes brightened
with amusement. He looked around for a minute, uncomfortable with the silence 
and saw 2 multi colored school bags in the closet.  They looked so damned
familiar, somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he saw them before.
"You have any friends, Irv?"  offered Jimmy from the couch.  "Yeah, I know
lots of people.  I guess you could say I do."  Jimmy frowned.  "People 
aren't your friends.  They always want something out of you.  They always
expect too much.  A chair or a couch is just happy with you owning it."
Again, the same disturbed silence.  Irv decided that he'd best get rolling.

 "I gotta get going, kid." said Irv.  He went to stand but found he couldn't.
He couldn't even move.  Each fiber of his clothing was interwoven with the
fibers of the chair, and bound tightly.  The burning started.  Burning and 
eating away at his bared flesh, tearing and shredding.  Agonizingly ripping 
at his tendons and meaty tissue.  Irv's screams stopped abruptly as the chair 
soaked itself with a crimson stain.  Jimmy knew that in time, it would dry.

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 Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and Corrosion          #46 --> 02/04/95
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