No. 117 November, 2009
Neursosis And Resolution
(for Tony Moffeit)
by Ralph Stevenson
It was well past dusk when the elderly woman boarded the bus. She took the seat directly behind and across the aisle from the driver. Her appearance was a great deal similar to hundreds of other elderly ladies who patronize cross-country buses every day. Quite likely the casual observer wouldn't have guessed that she was any more neurotic than other persons of the same sex, social standing, education, intelligence and age. However, this was not the case. Scarcely was the trip five minutes old when she leaned forward and warbled, "Driver, are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm fine, wide awake," he replied.
She sighed and sank back into her seat. But in a few minutes she again ventured, "Driver, are you awake?"
Yeah, I'm awake."
But a bee in one's bonnet is a bee in one's bonnet. Thus, every
little bit for the next half hour, the elderly woman launched the
same piercing query.
At last the bus's helmsman testily suggested, "Lady, leave the
driving to me! Why don't you just sit back, relax and get some rest?"
Once again, the woman sighed a weighty sigh and retreated into
upholstered comfort. But somehow peace could find no resting place in her soul: "Driver, are you awake?"
"Woman!" he exclaimed, "If I fall asleep my head will hit the
steering wheel and honk the horn. Believe me, you'd be the first to know. Now, be quiet and go to sleep!"
Silence ensued, in fact, it ensued for quite a length of time. When next the driver turned to look, the elderly lady was fast asleep.
Immediately, mischief was born in his mind. His hand paused only briefly above the steering wheel before he dropped it to elicit a long, Jericho-leveling blast from the horn.
The lady woke in a spasm of fright. The words were on the tip of her tongue. They died upon arrival on the tip of her tongue when her gaze met the driver's twinkling, wide awake eyes as the bus tooled safely along the highway through the velvet heart of night.
copyright 2009, Ralph Stevenson
(for Tony Moffeit)
by Ralph Stevenson
It was well past dusk when the elderly woman boarded the bus. She took the seat directly behind and across the aisle from the driver. Her appearance was a great deal similar to hundreds of other elderly ladies who patronize cross-country buses every day. Quite likely the casual observer wouldn't have guessed that she was any more neurotic than other persons of the same sex, social standing, education, intelligence and age. However, this was not the case. Scarcely was the trip five minutes old when she leaned forward and warbled, "Driver, are you awake?"
"Yes, I'm fine, wide awake," he replied.
She sighed and sank back into her seat. But in a few minutes she again ventured, "Driver, are you awake?"
Yeah, I'm awake."
But a bee in one's bonnet is a bee in one's bonnet. Thus, every
little bit for the next half hour, the elderly woman launched the
same piercing query.
At last the bus's helmsman testily suggested, "Lady, leave the
driving to me! Why don't you just sit back, relax and get some rest?"
Once again, the woman sighed a weighty sigh and retreated into
upholstered comfort. But somehow peace could find no resting place in her soul: "Driver, are you awake?"
"Woman!" he exclaimed, "If I fall asleep my head will hit the
steering wheel and honk the horn. Believe me, you'd be the first to know. Now, be quiet and go to sleep!"
Silence ensued, in fact, it ensued for quite a length of time. When next the driver turned to look, the elderly lady was fast asleep.
Immediately, mischief was born in his mind. His hand paused only briefly above the steering wheel before he dropped it to elicit a long, Jericho-leveling blast from the horn.
The lady woke in a spasm of fright. The words were on the tip of her tongue. They died upon arrival on the tip of her tongue when her gaze met the driver's twinkling, wide awake eyes as the bus tooled safely along the highway through the velvet heart of night.
copyright 2009, Ralph Stevenson
Ralph Stevenson is 58 and lives in Pueblo, Colorado. He's been writing short fiction and poetry since he was a kid. Several of his works have been published in anthologies and journals.