Bus – Cab – BOOM!

My childlike adoration of fireworks is extreme. If you don’t at least like them you probably should be shipped off to the island where I’ve mentally put the people who don’t like chocolate. Once in childhood, my mother punished me for something trivial by not letting me see that year’s fireworks display. I will occasionally remind her how cruel that was. I live two blocks from the ocean but there are no fireworks here, it seems wrong that you can’t just wander out to the sand and gaze upon a sky bouquet on the Fourth. Last year I was feeling a bit sad and decided I was going to have an adventure. I would go to Marina Del Rey where they have the money for explosives. I would hop on a bus if need be. Now you have no idea how weird that last sentence is. I was going to get on an actual bus. In Los Angeles if you have a car you just don’t do the bus thing. We Angelinos tend to live in our cars. If you saw the inside of my car you would think I LITERALLY lived in my car. Experts say that my mess is a sign of immense creativity, if it’s a proportional relationship, I am a genius. I had already done a three mile walk that day and my hip was acting wonky. At the very beginning of the walk a young man asked me to go make out with him. I took a pass on the pass, but I can’t lie it put a bounce in my step which is better than a limp. The bus was only going to get me a ha