The Nightmare.
The bus doors slid open on a new kind of God. Tall,fur collared,goatee-d,cap-tilted ghetto God.He raises one stiff arm,and I dream in slow motion that that is NOT a gun in his hand,sideways,movie-like.I hear a snap sound.The blue plastic of the bus seat behind me splinters.My left hand goes cold... Sign in to see full entry.