Eros leans back in his seat. He finds the bright silver bus he is riding on is surprisingly comfortable but incredibly boring. ‘Why did I never learn to drive gahhhh!’ He puts his arms on the back of the seat. His wings neatly folded up and hanging into the seat behind him, their pure white feathers invisible to everyone who has not eaten the ambrosia of the gods. ‘Oh, right wings,’ he says as he looks around the dingy public transportation.
The first thing he sees is his brother Himeros and his red-trimmed toga; his fiery red wings are also folded up, blocking most of his view of the front of the bus. Across the aisle he can see a man in his mid-twenties wearing a cowboy hat and boots.
“You know the problem with those gays is they are going to ruin this country,” the cowboy says. “I just don’t understand; they go around having unholy sex and then pushing their homosexual ways on others. Disgusting.”
Next to him is a slightly older man wearing a t-shirt and jeans. “Uh-huh, yeah, the gays are the problem.” He rolls his eyes, trying to shut up the annoying cowboy. He looks out of his window. ‘I bet you jack off thinking about dick,’ the older man grins.
With a matching grin, Eros stands up; he pulls out his gun, a 9mm black on black; he casually puts it to the cowboy’s head, aiming it to hit both men. “Excuse me,” he says and pulls the trigger. A lance of light goes through both of their heads. But they don’t seem to notice.
“What the hell are you one of those gays?” the cowboy says and turns to the older man. “Did you see that? He tried to touch me”
Eros puts his gun away and moves to sit in a seat in front of his brother.
“What was that for, Eros? They are going to be miserable,” Himeros says, leaning forward he pushes his brothers wings out of his way so he can see his brothers facial expressions.
Eros looks back at his handy work to see the cowboy smiling at the man next to him. Who is smiling back. Eros can hear the sound of a zipper going down. He grins, showing his perfectly white teeth. “I was getting bored,” he says, putting his hands behind his head. “Really nothing else to do”
Himeros tries not to look but can’t help but hear as the cowboy makes noises as he chokes on the man’s penis.
“Oh god, I love you so much,” the plain t-shirted man whispers. “What do I tell my wife?”
“Now I have to sit and listen to a homophobe have sex behind me.” Himeros sighs, “You know they will be at this for hours…”
“Relax, we are getting off the bus soon,” Eros says, eyeing the bus driver. His trigger finger itching as he looks at the only other person on the bus, a gray haired grandmother sitting 3 seats from the driver.
…….
Pothos plays with his blond hair. “I miss the bus.”
Eros laughs. “It’s only been 100 feet.”
“Don’t talk about feet,My feet hurt, it’s hot, there are bugs in my hair—what is there to like about this?” Pothos laments. He stretches his wings to their full thirty feet across. They burn with a cool blue flame; he gives them a flap before folding them back tight to his body.
Eros looks back at the bus. The small grandmother pressed against the front window, her squeals of delight dampened by the glass. “You know I can’t help it. Everyone should find love.” He shrugs, looking forward into the distance at a sign that says “Jim’s gas ahead”.
Pothos, with his blue-edged toga and his hobnailed shoes, sighs louder, “And why can’t we just fly? I miss the skies.”
Eros looks up at the great blue expanse. “Because we are close to a no-fly zone, and you’re a god. It’s not like you get tired,” he says and stretches his own beautiful white wings.
Slowly, painfully slowly falling into the distance behind the godly pair is the bus. In seat 12 on the right, the man in the plain t-shirt finishes in the cowboys hat and puts it on his new lovers head “a memento of me” he whispers feeling genuinely romantic about it.
Meanwhile, A red convertible Mustang from the late 90s glides across the road as it winds its way through the grassy dunes. Eucleia keeps both hands on the wheel and her back straight. The seatbelt is holding her in position. Her golden hair was flowing in the wind with its multicolored ribbons whipping behind her. The road goes on seemingly forever, an endless sea of grassy waves. She adjusts her mirror and looks at her brother in the back seat. The cut jean shorts are the only scrap of clothing he is wearing. His bronze and sculpted body is a light golden color, and his messy curly hair is black.
“Palikos, we are almost there, another half hour,” Eucleia says, putting on her turn signal and passing the parked bus. Her eyes squinted as she feels irked by the fact that the people on the bus couldn’t be bothered to put on their hazard lights.
The Mustang motors up a hill, cresting the top. Eucleia slams on the brakes, the car crossing into the other lane. She puts on her four-way lights and swerves around them, pulling over to the side, unbuckling her seat belt, shutting off the car, and pushing the door open. “What in the name of the gods are you doing!” she shouts at the winged pair.
Eros looks at her, blinking his eyes slowly. “Walking” he states matter of factly.
“Oh, it’s you…. Why are you here?” Eucleia says to Eros. Pothos is looking off in the distance, watching a bird soar.
“Hey Eucleia, can you give us a ride? The bus had to stop; the driver was occupied,” Eros says, giving her his best smile.
Eucleia looks back at Palikos, who is still in the car.
Palikos nods. “Always be kind to those who are in need,” he says, sliding over to make room for Pothos.
Eros jumps over the door of the convertible and sits in the passenger seat. “Thanks.”
“Use the door next time,” she snips at him. “And put your seat belt on.”
“Be kind, sister.” Palikos says with righteous sarcasm, “It’s not easy to be virtuous with a mother like Venus.”
Himeros feels a deep need to punch the smug palikos in the face. “Isn’t it hard to be the daughter of a god who tried to force himself on my mother?”
Eucleia grips the wheel tightly and restrains herself. “You’re pushing my hospitality.”
Eros puts his hand on Eucleia’s leg. “Forgive Himeros; his temper runs hot.”
Eucleia makes a sour face and shuts her hazard lights off.
“Ready to go?” Eros asks, his hand squeezing her knee.
Eucleia turns her head slowly, looking at Eros. “Remove your hand or remove yourself from this car,” she says, letting go of the wheel the threat not only implied but prepared and willing and wanting.
Eros looks at the offending hand like he is confused. He removes it and tucks it under his butt. “Please forgive me; your beauty made me lose my mind.”
“yeah i bet…” Eucleia says and puts her turn signal on and puts the car into drive. She turns back onto the highway; they breeze past the gas station, and soon the motel sign rises over the horizon.
