shane's umbrella

"It's not raining, you moron," a girl called.

It was hardly ever raining when Shane carried his umbrella. He carried it daily.

"What is that for?" kids would ask Shane daily. He would just respond, "Your mom."

You see, Shane wasn't a nice kid. In fact, he was an outcast. At his high school, he was considered one of the freaks. He ate alone except for the days when his best friend Stan wasn't suspended.

Shane was 14 and in 10th grade. He skipped 5th grade because he was so smart. Stan was 18 and in 9th grade. He had been suspended so many times that he had been retained 3 times. The terrible thing about this duo was that Stan was not the bad guy; Shane was. It just so happened that everytime Shane did something wrong, Stan would take the blame. This happened about 2 to 3 times a week. It found Stan in detention almost every evening and grounded every weekend.

Being grounded never seemed to stop Stan though. Shane would come by every Friday night at 1:30 and break Stan out of his 2nd story bedroom.

"Hey, man," Shane called up to Stan's window in a loud whisper.

Stan came to the window.

"Hey, dude. Hold on, lemme get some stuff," Stan called as he opened his window.

"Hurry up, man. We're meeting some guys down at Wyndham Park at 2," Shane called looking around for anyone who might see them. "What the hell are you getting? Just throw some shit in a bag and c'mon!"

Stan appeared at the window with a stuffed orange duffle bag and a long object dangling from his wrist.

"Damn, man! You tryin' to get us caught with that big bright thing?" laughed Shane. "And what the hell is that big long thing?"

"It's an umbrella," explained Stan as he carefully climbed down the drainage pipe.

"Why do you have that?" Shane asked.

"Why do you have yours?" asked Stan as he stablized himself on the ground. "Wait. Where is yours."

"With your mom."

"You always say shit like that," whined Stan.

"You're always a douche," said Shane as he walked to the street.

The boys arrived at Wyndham Park at about 2:10 and much to their surprise, no one was there yet. The only thing moving was the water in the fountain at the front of the park. It was a pretty eerie night, but it was the type of night condusive to mischevious acts.

"Where is everyone, Mr.'We're meeting some guys down at Wyndham Park at 2'?" asked Stan as he pointed his umbrella at Shane.

"They're late, obviously," Shane said cooly. "You got any cigarettes?"

Stan pulled out a carton of cigarettes and tossed them to Shane. Shane took one, sat down on a bench, and lit it.

"You know, you should really start holding on to these if you are going to smoke them," suggested Stan, sitting down next to Shane.

"Yeah, I should," said Shane after taking a long puff, "if I want the old lady to catch me."

"You wouldn't get in any more trouble than I get into on a daily basis," grumbled Stan. "You like me being your little lab rat, don't you?"

"You're not my lab rat, Stan," said Shane. "You're my best friend. You know that. That's why you are carrying that umbrella."

"Huh?" asked Stan.

"You big doofus," Shane said ashing on Stan's hand. "You are carrying an umbrella because I do, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. I still don't know why you carry yours around though."

"You have been around me for how long now?"

"I guess about a three years. Why?"

"And you haven't figured out what my umbrella is for?" asked Shane.

Scared that he would get ashed on again, Stan hesitated and finally said, "No."

"It's quite simple," Shane said as he stood up. "It's all you really need in life."

"I don't follow," Stan said, wincing.

"It keeps you dry when it rains. It shades you from the sun. You can use it to hit people with. You can even get naked behind it if you open it up," Shane explained as he opened up the umbrella.

"Is that really why you have one?" asked Stan.

"Did I stutter?" Shane said, flicking the butt of his cigarette at Stan. Stan didn't respond in hopes that Shane wouldn't do or say anything derrogatory to him. "What, you can't speak now?"

"Yeah, I can speak. I just expected more. I mean, that is all your umbrella is for?" said Stan as he stood up.

"It's a fucking umbrella, Stan. What else do you expect me to do with it? Pick my nose?" shouted Shane.

"You know, you are 4 years younger than me, you carry around a random umbrella, and you treat me like shit," Stan complained. "I don't even know why I hang out with you. You really are a freak. And now that I know the secret behind that queer umbrella, the whole mystery behind you is solved."

"So is that they whole reason you hung out with me?" Shane asked.

"No, Shane," said Stan. "Believe it or not, I thought you were cool when I first met you. But then you started treating me like I was an idiot. And I took it--just because you are 'Shane the Weird Umbrella Guy.' You don't realize how popular you are. People talk about you all the time. Granted it's not good all the time, but it's more than what they say about me."

"Stan, man," Shane began, "You are the 18 year old freshman! Everyone talks about you."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm the biggest loser at the school. I won't ever graduate. I have started going to school for the social aspect--the little bit of one that I can have as a 18 year old fucking freshman. I should have dropped out a long time ago. But that's beside the point," shouted Stan walking toward Shane with his umbrella. "I really have no need to go to school anymore; or to be your friend. Or for this piece of shit umbrella." He held the umbrella horizontally and shoved it toward Shane.

"Fine, you sellout. Go ahead and drop out. I'll see you at the pick up window of a McDonald's someday," shouted Shane as Stan walked away.

Shane remained at the park for another 30 minutes. When the boys he was expecting didn't show, he decided to head for home.

On the way home, Shane passed Stan's house. As he passed, he dropped the umbrella that Stan had left him. When he bent over to pick it up, the darkness and quietness of the night was cut by sirens and flashing lights.

"Are you Shane Walker?" a police officer said as he jumped out of his car.

"Yeah. Problem?" Shane said smugly.

The officer looked down at the umbrella sitting on the sidewalk.

"We got a complaint of vandalism last night at about 11 pm from a Mrs. Janice Caldwell on Barkley Street."

"That's my English teacher," Shane snickered.

"Yeah, that's why she thinks it was you, Mr. Walker," the policeman said. "She said that the vandal had an umbrella. And she said that you always have an umbrella with you at school."

"Your point?" Shane asked crossing his arms.

"You're going to need to come with us."

The police handcuffed Shane and put him in the police car.

A few minutes later, Stan was awaken by cars starting outside of his house. When he got out of bed to see what was going on, all he saw were tail lights heading away from his house--and an umbrella on the sidewalk.

captain from castille

It is said that a long time ago, there lived a noble and valiant sea captain that resided on the enchanted Spanish island of Castille. This captain was known all over the free world for protecting Castille from her enemies on the rough waters of the North Atlantic. Along with his dashing fleet of 4 sea vessels and 48 men, he courageously fought off Vikings and barbarians alike.

One story tells of the captain's brave fight to win his captured wife, Estrella, back from the terrible part octopus sea witch, Tiburoness. The captain set off to sea with his ships and men to search for his beloved Estrella. Before arriving at her secret mid-Atlantic lair, they navigated through torrential waves and horrendous conditions. The fury of the sea swallowed 12 of the captain's men and his most prized ship, The Estrella, named after his wife. The captain did not take this bad luck as a sign of terrible things to come, but he fought on valiantly.

After sailing the stormy seas for 5 days, the Captain finally reached Tiburoness's island grotto in the heart of the Atlantic. The first thing he and his men stumbled upon were several captured mothers and maidens from their native island, Castille. They immediately set forth to free them from bondage, but Tiburoness's evil seamen began attacking. The captain, brave and courageous fought with the aid of all of his men. After defeating all of the evil seamen, the captain's numbers were down to a meager 10. The ten of them set off on the island to find Estrella and avenge her capture.

When they reached Tiburoness's great hut, they heard Estrella's cries and immediately rushed in to save her from the wicked sea harlot. She was tied to a palm tree with octopus tentacles. The captain immeditely released his bride and sent her back to the ship with 2 of his men. As soon as the captain released Estrella, the terrible sea witch Tiburoness attacked violently flinging her coarse and ferocious braids of hair toward the captain and his men. With each twisted lock of hair she grabbed the captain's men and crushed them. All that was left was the captain and he had no weapon but his dashing sword, Suerte. With Suerte, he cut free the corpses of his fallen men. With every sailor that fell from Tiburoness's evil grasp, so fell the braid that bound them. After cutting free all his men, the evil sea witch stood helpless and scalped. The captain took the octopus tentacles and bound Tiburoness with them. He took the helpless octopus woman and cast her into the deepest part of the Atlantic Ocean--the part closest to Hell where the water boils and the heat is intolerable. Tiburoness was never seen again.

As for our hero, he returned to Castille with his wife Estrella and the two men who accompanied her back to the ships. It is said that the ships that returned to Castille with the captain, his wife, and men were later used to help establish the new world. They were The Nina, The Pinta, and The Santa Maria.

welcome on the bus

This blog is nothing but a product of boredom... I plan on making it a blog of short stories. The reason why I called this blog Short Bus Stories is because they are going to be short, and more than likely really dumb. As PC as the title ISN'T, it is a catchy title... and if anything, I am prefacing readers that my stories will be pretty retarded (sorry... once again, not PC). I think I will start each story with a random title... a random name and something random that belongs to them... for the submission of Short Bus Stories...

Jovitrice's Beetle

"You stupid piece of crap car," Jovitrice said as she kicked the tire of her 1999 Volkswagen Beetle. It was the third time that week that it had failed to crank up.

Her beetle had been a present from her grandparents when she graduated from high school in 1999. Now, as a grad student at the University of South Carolina, she had been driving the car for 4 years and it was already in horrible condition.

"I shouldn't have driven it to Charlotte this past weekend," she mumbled to herself as she lifted the hood. She didn't know what she was doing under there. Even though she was working on her law degree, she had no knowledge about cars.

"Who would know what to do about this?" she asked herself leaning up against her car. The heat from the engine was too unbearable for her in the heat of the July sun. She walked around to the drivers side of the car and sat down. As she thought, lots of people came to mind... her brother who was across town at the air force base, her roommate's boyfriend was at work... her ex-fiancee... "He's probably at the park with his kid," she said as she rolled her eyes.

She had just called of her wedding to Andre a month before. It turned out that the ever so cute little boy that he had suggested to be the ring bearer was not his 2nd cousin, but in fact his son. She found out when Andre's brother Terrence asked about his favorite nephew in front of her. She wasn't ready to be a mother... especially to a 7 year old. Besides, Andre lied to her and told her that the boy was his cousin. "Cousin my ass," she said as she rolled her eyes and searched in her purse for her cell phone.

If only the little boy didn't exist, she would have been on her honeymoon to France. She wouldn't even be sitting in her car late for work. In all honesty though, it wasn't the little boy's fault. It was that girl that he had the baby with. Jovitrice didn't understand why the girl didn't just have an abortion or give the kid up for adoption. Andre told Jovitrice that the mother of his child had been a preacher's kid and both of those options were pretty much out of the question. So, they had the child and they stayed together until the girl decided that she wanted to go to college and she turned custody of the boy over to Andre.

"Andre can't raise a child," Jovitrice thought to herself. Jovitrice had been doing everything for him herself. Before she had found out about the boy, Jovitrice moved in with Andre, had been doing his laundry, cleaning the house, running errands, and doing pretty much any and everything domestic. Her studies began to fail and she practically went broke saving up money for the wedding. They were practically married. They even shared bills and got a joint bank account. When she called off the wedding, he pretty much put her out on her own. He had been the only one working since she stayed around the house and went to classes, so he took all the money. This is why she had no money to get her car fixed.

"Damn it!" she said as she slammed her cell phone down on the passenger seat. She had just realized that Andre was in charge of the phone bill and had cut the service off, so she was stranded with no way to call for help. She began to cry. "Maybe I should have just stayed with him," she said to herself through her tears. "I mean, he did love me. I was just too selfish. I could have handled that little boy. He was cute... just like his daddy."

Jovitrice sniffed and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her blouse. She looked around the parking lot of the grocery store.

"Do I have to go back to mommy's this afternoon, daddy? We had fun this weekend, right?" a little girl's voice said.

"You know you do, Mya," a man's voice said. "And you know your mother will be really upset if we are late. It seems like daddy can't do anything to please mommy."

"Well, she always says she's glad you are gone after you drop me off," the little girl said.

The man laughed a little, "Well, I'm glad when I leave too--just not too happy to leave you."

Jovitrice thought for a moment. "Nah," she said. "Seems like he's already late anyway." She looked in her rear view mirror and checked her makeup and wiped away some mascara that had been running from her tears. She prepared to go up to the grocery store and use their phone. All of a sudden, there was a man standing at her window.

"Excuse me, but do you need a little help?" It was the man that had been speaking to his little girl. The little girl, who was about 5 years old was standing to his left.

"Well, actually," Jovitrice began, "I do. But it seems like you might be a little busy."

"Yeah, daddy. You don't want mommy do be mad at you, do you?" the little girl said.

"Mya, honey, I think your mother can wait," the man said to his daughter. "Carl," the man said, offering his hand to Jovitrice.

"Jovitrice," she smiled offering her hand.

"Well, Jovitrice, lemme take a look at this, and then maybe instead of me charging you for labor, I can take you out sometime?" Carl said with a smile.

Jovitrice looked at Carl and then she looked at the little girl to his left.

"Is it okay if your daddy helps me out right quick, honey?" Jovitrice said to Mya.

"Yes ma'am," Mya said. "You sure are pretty."

"Thank you, sweetie!" Jovitrice smiled. "Well, Carl, it looks like it's okay with her, so it's okay with me."

"Great," said Carl rubbing Mya on the head. Jovitrice patted Mya on the back and walked to the front of the car with Carl.

Carl and Jovitrice got married a year and a half later. Mya was the junior bride. Jovitrice's Beetle held out just long enough for them to trade it in for a family sedan.