there they were. Enjoying the ride. Trusting in God's grace and the driver. Juan lights a cigarette and puffs on it savoring. everyone on the vehicle was chatting. Juan's mind wanders. He likes the wind in his face and the fast lane. He thinks about what he would see in the place they were going. He thinks of all the fun he was going to have. Beaches, caves, reefs, amusement parks, towers and more.
Then everything goes blank. His sight frozen on the dashboard. He felt nothing. He no longer hear the other voices. All he could hear was the sound of metal crunching as it was twisted and bent. His instincts kicked in but he was frozen by the uncertainty of what just happened.
His hearing returns, but only hears sighs of pain and cries of disbelief.
The elegant bus they were on was called "Pinas" and the train that hit them was called "reality."
"Pinas" was now reduced to a chunk of twisted metal.
Juan regains his thoughts. Pinned down on his chair, he checks to see if everyone was alright. Every one was either dead or dying.
Juan checked the driver's seat but the driver was no longer there. All that Juan could see were a bag of 105,000 euros, empty bottles of liquid fertilizers priced P.728M, a few dead journalists and lefties and a CD with the writings "garci."
Juan stared at the twisted metal that imprisoned him. He thought if this were going to be his coffin. Juan started to talk out loud and asked himself, "Why did I let that four-foot monkey drive?"
