I once worked as a bus-driver. One of the routes went from down-town and passed the road to the zoo. The bus always had a sign in the window saying 'via zoo'. One time I stopped to pick up about fifteen passengers. The first one said, "Is this the bus to the zoo?" The second one said, "Is this the bus to the zoo?" The third one said " "Is this the bus to the zoo?" I stood up and called out to the rest of the queue. "This is the bus to the zoo." The next person got on. " How much to the zoo?" The next one, " How much to the zoo?" The next one "Is this the bus to the zoo?" Not long after this I gave up the job suffering from repetive strain injury. (Well that's what I told the boss) It was more like repetive brain injury, especially when I started dreaming I was driving a bus and hundreds of passengers were asking if this was the bus to the zoo. My head was no longer my own. It had been invaded by tourists. The next year I wrote a children's book. Called "My Mother drives a big yellow bus" The main character "Mother" did some macabre things to her passengers, including cooking one and eating her for dinner.

matai