Waiting For Peter

If I hadn’t died, I’d still be bouncing along in that Greyhound bus through the mountains swigging a Coke. Don’t mind being dead but dying almost killed me. When the bus hit the boulder I flew out the window and was tossed in the air. My head hit the rocks. No one survived. They found us later covered with snow. But it’s nice up here on a cloud waiting with the others now. We wonder what’s next. Moments ago an angel landed and said Peter would soon be here. Donal Mahoney