the missing person

by bofa xesjum

an assorted group of people were waiting for a train. a happy child laughed. zero hour arrived. zero hour has arrived, folks, the pullman porter announced in his majestic voice. we ask that you all return to your assigned seats. but a person was missing. a seat was empty, where they had all been filled up before. al jones took an apple out of his pocket, polished it with his white silk handkerchief, and took a loud chomping bite out of it. excuse me, miss excalibur edwards, the ace reporter of the midville sentinel, who was seated beside jones, reproved him. that was very rude. what was rude about it? al drawled insouciantly, that i am eating an apple in these trying circumstances. or that i sounded like a horse doing it? that you sounded like a whole barn of drayhorses doing it. meanwhile, a lady is waiting outside in the rain. gus “the gargoyle” grimson, seated in the row behind al jones and miss edwards, overheard the conversation and grimaced with suppressed glee. vince venson, a visionary mountain man seated beside gus, sternly advised him, you should let it all hang out. but the person was still missing. pete palfrey, the bus station security man, was positively frantic, but managed to keep a poker face. outside, the rain continued to bludgeon the sidewalk, and the few flowers that grew between the cracks in the sidewalk were not spared. in the back row, uncle john chewed the stem of his pipe, remembering the happy days of yore when he could actually light it and smoke it. the happy child, whose name was heather carter, burst out laughing in the front row. gus the gargoyle took a small spiral notebook out of his pocket and began grimly scribbling in it. a woman screamed outside in the night. absorbed in their own thoughts, almost nobody in the station paid the scream any attention. the woman stopped screaming. a bum walked into the station, asking people for dimes. unknown to the people on the benches, and to pete palfrey the security man, the bum, whose name was bob, had an iguana in the pocket of his heavy overcoat. the iguana missed the sand he had formerly crawled through. if bob the bum had had a monkey in his pocket instead of the iguana, a commotion might have ensued. tom smith, a toreador sitting in the front row, was reminded of his pet turtle terence, when he noticed the iguana peeking out of the pocket of bob the bum’s heavy overcoat. roberta rogers, called the queen by her friends, found the whole scenario quite amusing.