Frank's Bad Day Part I

Frank had never really contemplated the size of a city
bus.

Sure, he saw them as he walked the streets of Chicago,
but he normally drove everywhere, insulated in the
white noise of his XM radio and air conditioning in his
sensible mid-size sedan from the sweaty masses that
frequented public transportation.

However, today when Frank absentmindedly stepped off
the curb onto the busy street, he thought about busses
in a very concrete way as he was hit by bus 304 on the
Crosstown Express.

In the milleseconds that followed the impact, Frank
sailed through the air, entering the intersection of
Lakeshore and Michigan. During this time, Frank
pondered the mass, size and speed of the bus. If the
bus had been an animal it would have been as fearsome
as a T-Rex, but instead it was as domesticated as some
giant aluminum dachsand on wheels.

Before Frank could further ponder the anthropomorphic
aspects of the bus that hit him, his skull and spine
came into contact with the side of a Little Debbie
Cakes delivery truck and he crumbled to the asaphalt
like a rag doll. Frank had a secret love for Little
Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. He would get one after
spinning class at the Y every Wednesday, so the irony
of this was not lost on him. Before his eyes rolled
back into his head and he blacked out, Frank looked
up at the side of the truck and thought,
"Well, I always knew they were bad for me."