As I walk home I can´t help but notice that the people in the street are panicking. Bus-tops everywhere are peeled back like tins. I see one bus-top peel open right in front of me. I decide to hurry home.
No one could see Arnold the green monster because no one believes he exists. And what´s more no one would believe that anyone could have so much fun with a giant tin opener. Would you see him? Have a look at this…
We are still talking about the strange event when the bus zooms into the noisy traffic. The weather has cleared up and the suns rays are stealing through the clouds and blinding the passengers who are starring out the windows. Most of them shield their eyes with their palms or squint and look back into the dreary occupants of the bus. Then another thunderbolt sounds, right above us, people shriek and look up, cowering down at the same time. Once again the roof of the bus is pealed back the same as you´d open a can of sardines. It´s a clean cut. The bus driver pulls over and shouts at everyone to get of the bus calmly. We break windows and shove each other out of the way. This slows the bus emptying process. On the pavement we can see the neat curl of metal at the end of the bus. It´s impressive. The people are crazy now, someone is ringing the press. I decide to walk the rest of the way home. I´ve had enough weirdness for one day.
The day is warm. A light breeze dances upon the trees leaves. It plays with plastic bags and whirls up leaves in a windy spiral. It´s fresh out. A crack of thunder sounds from far off. The fluffy white clouds scurry away, their grey cousins take over. Another thunderbolt sounds through the air. Some people panic, reaching for umbrellas. Some enjoy it, but zip up their jackets all the same. The rain drops steadily. Everyone hunches over and dashes for shelter. Trouser ends get soggy, socks are drenched. The smell of wet wool and wet hair is overwhelming as I get into the bus. I hold onto the pole. I´m going home from work so the cold wetness doesn´t bother me so much. A traffic jam stops our jerky rush home. Ten minutes pass. People click their tongues and flip their eyes to heaven. Everyone is listening to two old dears complaining about their pains. I try to change the channels but the only other options are my private thoughts or the loud monologue of some fellow boasting down a mobile phone. I doubt if there´s really a listener at the other end, wait what am I saying, there´s a bus load of them. I stare at the raindrops racing each other down the outside of the glass. Unable to find a winner I stare at the street walkers. Another loud crack of thunder peels through the air, frighteningly close. People scream. Something is peeling back the roof of the bus the same way you would open a tin of sardines. People push to get out of the bus. Without realising how, I find myself outside on the pavement gobsmacked and staring at the curled metal roof of the bus. It´s so well pulled back, it´s almost beautiful. No one can explain what has happened or how it happened. We are ushered to the next bus stop while the bewildered bus driver rings for help. I trudge to the next bus-stop. We all wait together, the weirdness of the incident draws unlikely people together. Everyone is sharing their theories. The rain stops when we mount the next bus.