What most people call sidewalks, Billy calls gutters. Where the worst of the rainwater, melted snow gathers. The stuff that has burrowed through roadside yards of rotten, matted grass. As winter turns to spring, it stews on the concrete and leeches a rotten yellow. The sewer system that runs beneath it makes it smell of eggs. Like some great dog has soiled it.
There's nothing great about dogs. Any creature so eager to flow in the gutters at least elicits his mistrust. That puts dogs and joggers in a bad scenario. Dogs are much too proud for animals on leashes. With their legs, they always try to rule the way - zigging just as much as they zag, and always drifting to the same side as the person walking opposite. With their mouths, they to rule the whole entire road. Barking at his bus like it's going to attack them - but they haven't seen anything yet. And of course, just as the giant dog might've, they soil all the work that has given them such a nice infrastructure to trounce upon. Compared to pooches, joggers are a much less harmful, but even more annoying subgroup. Paying two-hundred bucks for step-counters they could get with a Happy Meal. Making fun of the hardworking people of construction by wearing fluorescent strips to avoid being run over by what? Dogs and their walkers? They have singlehandedly ruined gag gifts as a concept, because no matter how tacky the as-seen-on TV product is, they will find it useful. When Billy thinks of them, he gets beside himself.
One day he thinks he's gonna find a really busy gutter, like, as busy all they'll ever be in the burbs. Like at a farmer's market, maybe. And he'll just be driving his bus and make a sharp turn to the right. All the accountants and actuaries running in their tight little pants and squeaky shoes. A bag of green beans under one arm, and some sorta squash cradled in the other. Some yippy dog getting glued to the gutter by its smashed in leg. People come to try and grieve and it will just keep yipping over them. He can hear it when he closes his eyes. It has a ring to it.
The bell rings, and Billy glances into his rearview to see a schoolgirl tugging on the rope. The stop is still a ways away, but she's rung it now. She can't wait to get back into the gutters. When the sign finally approaches and he eases off the acceleration, she is already swaying to the front. Billy laughs a little and she mistakes it for friendliness. "Thank you," she says.
"Yup," he pulls the lever which pushes open the door. "Have a nice day."
And the world flows. Not unlike a gutter.
