Buses

Hey folks. This is the Alien C.W. with his “Observation of the Week” while Big Dope is in the shower thawing out.

It is a cold damp day here, with a winter storm approaching. Big Dope decided he had to go walking as he must face the Commandant of Weight Control at the veteran’s hospital soon. And … he decided that it would be a more pleasant outing if I accompanied him.

 Or, as he put it, “Get your three asses out of bed. We’re going walking.”

I protested until he threatened to delete my collection of Kaley Cuoco photos from his computer. What could I do?

It was threatening rain, so we decided to stay close to the man/alien cave. Rain doesn’t bother me, but he assures me that, as a member of your species, he would melt if exposed. We decided to circle the park across the street, it being a mile in perimeter and we could count our laps.

I assumed a shape similar to his and we started out. The sun wasn’t up, and we walked along the park with our hoodies drawn, unarmed and innocent, enjoying happy thoughts—a perfect urban tableau.

Or, as the men and women on Fox News would say, “Hunting Season.”

As we reached an unlighted area, a figure suddenly emerged and said, “Good morning” in a loud voice. It scared the Gutotamibodequeece++ out of me. (Editor’s note: You don’t want to know).

Actually, it was just a lady from the apartments across the street. We see her quite often. She was waiting to catch the bus to go to work, probably for some rich family in the western edge of our city.

Anyway, we talked about fact that it would probably take her an hour, with transfers and all, to arrive at her destination. If she makes any purchases along the way, she will pay a new sales tax on the goods. The money will go to our state’s Highway Construction Department and it will use the money to build new freeways from our city to cities that would not allow “her kind” to live in them, except perhaps as a voucher that can be exchanged for goods or services. (Editor’s note: He means “token.” His translator is out of synch again).

Big Dope got quiet at this point. I think this sort of thing bothers him more than it does some of your species. We walked in silence for an entire lap.

Finally, as we headed north around the eastern edge of the park, the first preliminary blast of cold wind hit us and took our breath away. Well, his breath, I have a different sort of respiratory system.

I guess if these folks would just buy themselves
cars, it would be easier to get around. - C.W.

To get our mind off the cold, I began to express my confusion at your species’ insistence on utilizing the most inefficient methods of transportation in the galaxy. I further expressed my opinion that the poor might become more productive if they had better methods of getting to work. Big Dope turned and explained it this way.

“Shut the hell up and keep walking.”

So I did. We turned west along the north edge of the park, the part that borders a major street. Just as we did, a van stopped alongside us and a pleasant looking woman asked if she could give me a pamphlet. I said yes and she did.

As she drove away, I glanced at the title.

“God controls the world,” it said.