King Krackskull presses hard on the pedal, the bus speeds forwards only to skid, turn over its roof before stopping back on its wheels.

“My bus knows the voice of its true master.”

“A bus is a bus,” the Captain answers, “I had no problem with it earlier.”

“We think alike.”

“Ha! Ha!” Labaguette mocks, “even I know buses can’t think!”

“You’re insulting me and my bus,” Jimmy retorts.  “We are proud members of the Yellow Squadrons of the Federation of Yellow Buses.  We are knowledgeable it in all forms of its texts, rules and shadow disclaimers.  As such, all of us, drivers and buses, are trained to think for ourselves under any circumstance and in twos, if bus and driver are so united.  Is that CLEAR?”

“A mere instrument in a plot conspiring to ensure I never find my crown again” the King retorts.

“We saved your life,” Jimmy continues.

“This conversation is going nowhere” the Captain says, “you saw Spinostress as well as I did yet you pretended not to know her.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Jimmy answers, “she came to me in dreams, hidden, a mere shadow amongst shadows.”

“Weren’t shadows in your area safe?” the Captain inquires.

“There are always mischievous curtains of shadows against which nothing can be done.  A shadow is a shadow, how can you differentiate it from another?”

“They’re part of your world, you should know them, you should be able to recognise them and see through them.”

“Not when they mingle amongst regular shadows.  Besides, it was only a mischievous shadow.”


To be continued…


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