I’ll stay on the bus, forget about us

and I’ll just let it be, if I don’t see cliche on the old oak tree! Ah!  Literati!  The pump is being primed! I’m beginning to feel my old self again! (though could use a little help with that! Interns are on break) Salvatore Buttaci has paid his fare and just got off the bus!  …

and I’ll just let it be, if I don’t see cliche on the old oak tree!

Ah!  Literati!  The pump is being primed!

I’m beginning to feel my old self again! (though could use a little help with that! Interns are on break)

Salvatore Buttaci has paid his fare and just got off the bus!  Our contest Like a Ton of Bricks continues.  You know, run your cliches up a flagpole and see who salutes.  But the story must be a conversation on a bus.

He is Sal Buttaci’s take on the contest:

 

TILL HELL FREEZES OVER

by Sal Buttaci

 

Rosie takes three brisk steps up onto the 32 Nutley bus. The door whooshes shut behind her.

“A blast from the past!” This from Phil Smalls, nodding towards the seat across from him, the only empty one left.

Rosie sits down, then cuts to the chase. “The shoe’s on the other foot now. I’m free as a bird.”

“Come on, Rosie. Who wrote the Book of Love?”

“You made your bed, Phil.”

Let’s lie in it, Sweetie Pie.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Rosie, I’m still carrying a torch.”

“Cry me a river.”

All eyes rivet on the two. Phil high-fives the crowd.

“Pipe down!” Rosie says, but Phil’s lips won’t zip.

“It’s all cool,” he says. “We’re two peas in a pod.”

“More like ‘three sheets to the wind.’”

“For crying out loud, I don’t booze anymore!”

Rosie bites her lip.

“We’re beating a dead horse, Phil.”

Central Avenue.

Her 32nd Street is two stops away.

“We tried twice,” she said.

“Third time’s a charm.”

Summit Street.

“You lie through your teeth.

“Phil, you really love me? Set me free!”

“Listen, Rosie.”

32nd Street.

Rosie yanks the stop cord and doesn’t look back.

Home is where the heart is.

Sal’s home

 

 

 

Salvatore Buttaci has been writing and seeing his work in print since 1957. He currently has two collections of short-short stories published by All Things That Matter Press. Flashing My Shorts and 200 Shorts are available in book and Kindle editions at  http://www.kindlegraph.com/authors/sambpoet

Sal lives in West Virginia with his wife Sharon.

13 comments

  1. Stars Fall On My Heart
    Stars Fall On My Heart says:

    Bumping into your ex on the bus…oh, that’s not awkward at all! That guy certainly was on a roll, but was it whole wheat or kaiser? LOL

    • SalvatoreButtaci says:

      Very buttered, Stars! They say a roll is a roll, but I was never one to fall for that. I once played a role in Darkness at Noon and got so wrapped up in my roll (a Russian wry) as Rubishov I broke a table with my fist. (I was 24 then when my fists worked well. Now at triple that age, bending my fingers is a monumental exercise. The guy on the bus would’ve been better off eating a roll and have a hot cup of Starbucks and keeping his cliche mouth shut!

    • SalvatoreButtaci says:

      Kyle, love is like that. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. And sometimes you’re smart enough to see a loss as a huge gain. Thanks for your comments.

    • SalvatoreButtaci says:

      T, thanks! Writing for all of us is a pleasure hard to explain. Sharing the fruits of that pleasure makes it all the more fun.

  2. Mac Eagan says:

    Wonderful job, Sal.  I really appreciate how you were able to string the cliche’s together in a way that they all made sense and fit together.
    Great work, as always.

    • SalvatoreButtaci says:

      Thanks, Ken. Right now I am working (in my head) a plot for the Christmas story to read on IT MATTERS next month. Once I have all the scenes in order, I’ll be pecking away at the keys to flashdom.

  3. Glclark says:

    Well, Sal, I’m glad she didn’t tell him to BEAT IT. He might have taken that wrong!  Another great one from the great one. Keep ’em comin’.

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