The Universe's Mixer

Ratso didn't open his eyes until the bus came to a stop. He felt like shit. Felt like shit and smelled like piss. But that was mostly because he'd made an unscheduled rest stop about three hours ago before he hit the Florida state line. Joe had been a pal, a real pal, and gotten him a change of clothes so he wouldn't look like the homeless cripple that just pissed all over his bus seat. Even though that was the goddamn truth. The bus stopped with a lurching motion that jerked Ratso out of his sleep. Boy, what a sleep. A deep sleep if ever there was one. He was sleeping so hard he thought he might have been fuckin' dead. But he wasn't dead. He wasn't dead and he didn't feel as bad as he had back at the "rest stop." He still felt like shit, like his bowels might erupt at any minute, like his teeth might fall out, like his brains might start leaking through his eyeballs -- but he thought he might be able to walk. Fuck yeah, he might be able to walk!

He made a snorting snicker which was immediately followed by a violent hacking cough.

"Ha, ha! Hey, Joe! We in Florida now, Joe? Musta fuckin' missed. Musta. Slept like I was fuckin' dead, Joe. Betcha thought I was dead, huh? Ain't that right, Joe? ... Joe?"

Ratso glanced beside him at the empty seat.

"Hey, where'd ya go, Joe?"
( It was then that he realized the entire bus was empty. )