The bunny hopped predatorily. Its glassy orange eyes looked in different directions. It hunted. Flowers danced at its feet. It hunted Leo Landline, a thirty two year old Hispanic man.  He had been trapped in the bunny realm for years and never had he been able to escape.

He lived off the flesh of bunnies he had been able to slay, but living was getting hard -- the bunnies were closing in on him. Leo had to kill the overlord bunny, Tito McHemmingway. Tito had the magic gem that would allow Leo to leave the realm. The gem was in his crown. Tito’s crown contained countless rubies, but all Leo wanted was the rainbow gem.

Leo ran through underbrush. He sought the hole in the ground, the tunnel per se that led to Tito’s home. There were many tunnels, but Leo knew that Tito’s was lined with platinum.  Leo tripped on a jellybean bush, and right in front of him was the platinum tunnel.

Leo slid down the platinum tunnel and landed in the underground bunny overlord’s base. The ground was covered in a thick cheesy substance that Leo recognized to be Bunnyplasm. Leo surveyed the torchlit cavern.

Suddenly, Leo was flat on his face and Tito was upon him. Leo had to muster all his strength and bravery to roll over onto his back and look up at the hideous rabbit. Its glazed over eyes faced different directions, and its fur was jet black. Its yellowed teeth dripped with slime, and its breath smelled like a murderous grandma’s closet.

Leo frantically reached for his pure carrot blade. He used his free hand to vainly try and push the massive rabbit away. He soon found his blade and shoved it into the creature’s chest. It made an inhuman screech, and Leo took this chance to grab its crown. Before the beast could strike again Leo had already tapped the rainbow gem and he was gone.

The bus was traveling 29 miles an hour at 1:02 AM in downtown New York City on September 2nd. The bus was filled to the brim with Indian businessmen who didn’t speak a word of English. The only one in the bus who was not an Indian business man was the Caucasian beach boy bus driver who was wearing blue shorts, an orange Hawaiian t-shirt, and shades. A mixture of Hindi and “Last Christmas” by Cascada blasting on the radio filled the bus.

The beach boy bus driver looked back, “Okay, who’s getting off next stop?”

The businessmen continued to babble in Hindi.
The beach boy bus driver nodded, “Very coolness. Alright let’s play Chubby Bunny again.” He grabbed one of the many bags of marshmallows on the dash board and tossed it into the crowd of businessmen. 

Soon the bus was filled with the sound of, “Last Christmas”, people babbling in Hindi, and businessmen saying, “Chubby Bunny” while their mouths were full of marshmallow.
The beach boy bus driver looked back again, “Remember to keep score.” He looked forwards just in time to see Leo Landline in front of his bus.

The beach boy put his foot down on the break. The bus hit Leo at ten miles an hour. He went flying back and hit the pavement. The bus driver stopped the bus completely and looked back at the Indian businessmen, “You stay here. I’ll check it out.” He grabbed a can of pepper spray off the dash board.

The bus driver got out of the bus. He spotted Leo ten feet away from the bus, the only reason he was able to see him being the dim street lights lining the sidewalk and the bus’s headlights. The bus driver approached until he was a foot away. He prodded Leo with his foot, “Hey man, you okay?”

Suddenly Leo sat up. The bus driver screamed and pepper sprayed him in the eyes multiple times. Leo covered his eyes with his hands and rolled on the ground in agony. The bus driver made a break for the bus. He closed the bus door behind him and sped off at 36 miles an hour. Leo was left in the street.
The bus driver was ten miles away before he said out loud, “Wait! What if he’s injured?!” He slammed on the breaks.The businessmen were knocked about. The bus driver turned the bus around and drove back in the direction of Leo.

Within minutes the bus was parked in front of Leo again. The bus driver got out of the bus and approached Leo, who was still writhing on the ground due to the pepper spray.
“Hey man, are you hurt?” asked the bus driver. 

Leo looked at the bus driver. He blinked. His eyes still stung from the pepper spray, “Acabo de regresar de un reino de los conejitos malvados! Necesito un lugar para pasar la noche! No hablo Inglés!”

The bus driver adjusted his sunglasses thoughtfully, “That must mean ‘I’m hurt’ in Swahili. I better get this guy to a vet.”
The bus driver walked over to Leo and helped him up.  He led Leo up the bus steps and showed him to the back of the bus. The bus doors closed before the bus driver retook his seat. The same song still blasted.

The businessmen and Leo stumbled as the bus driver started the bus back up and went speeding down the street at 24 miles an hour.

The typically busy New York streets were empty due to the late hour; however the occasional lost trick-or-treater from the previous year could be spotted. New York was a big city. It was easy to get lost.

After a long ten minutes of driving and nearly hitting bloated alley cats, the bus pulled up next to the sidewalk. On the other side of the sidewalk was a streetside, 24 hour animal clinic. Dim light radiated from the windows and double glass doors. The same song blasted through the bus.

The bus driver turned off the bus and pocketed the keys. He looked back into the sea of businessmen who all still babbled to each other in Hindi. The bus driver beckoned Leo to follow, and the pair exited the bus.

They pushed open the double glass doors. The walls were blue and covered in black and white pictures of kittens and puppies. The carpet was bright green with red stripes. There was a red leather couch that had been chewed on pushed up against the wall. Sitting on the couch was a wino with a wiry white beard, a tattered shirt that said, “I Heart Hugs” and a moldy cracker in the palm of his hand.

There was a door on the opposite side of the room. In the corner of the room was a receptionist counter with a heavy set black woman wearing teddy bear scrubs behind it. She paid the new visitors no mind as she played Connect Four by herself.
The bus driver headed over to the desk. He dragged Leo behind him. The hobo whispered to his cracker and licked his dried out lips. The bus driver rang the silver bell sitting on the woman’s desk. She looked up. The dim light had made it hard to tell from far away, but upon closer inspection one could see faint red lipstick stains on her cheeks and mascara smudges on the bridge of her nose.

The woman raised her eyebrows, “How can I help you, hun?”

The bus driver’s examination of her face was interrupted by the query that he had incited by ringing the bell, “Oh yes! This man needs to see a vet! He seems to be disoriented, speaking in Swahili, and suffering some sort of eye irritation.”

She tilted her head downwards and eyeballed the bus driver disbelievingly, “Swahili? Hun, he doesn’t look like any Swahili I’ve ever seen.”

“He looks Swahili to me, come on, speak!”

Leo looked between the woman and the bus driver confusedly, “No hablo Inglés! Me duelen los ojos mucho! No estoy Swahili!”

She crossed her arms and shook her head, “Mmhm. That sounds like Canadian to me.”

“Really?”

“I’ve taken multiple vet courses. Don’t you think I know Canadian when I hear it?”

The bus driver stroked his chin thoughtfully, “You make good points.”

“Now, you just sit your smart ass down, and the vet will be with you soon.”

The bus driver took Leo over to the red leather couch. They sat as far away from the hobo as possible. He smelled of aged mustard and soggy corn dogs.

After a short wait of forty minutes a man came out of the door near the receptionist’s desk. He wore an upside down name tag that said, “Howie Windlestort” on it. His brown hair was slicked back, and his murky blue eyes were large, but lidded.  Howie also sported a blond goatee. He spotted the bus driver and Leo, “Ah. Sorry to keep you waiting. My favorite Cheers episode was on.”

The bus driver itched the back of his neck, “S’all good.” He stood up, and he and Leo followed Howie into the back examination room. The room was windowless. There were glass jars full of various candies that were clearly for human patients and not animals. The room was a medical blue, and there were x-rays of a hamster plastered on one of the walls, along with posters warning to always check your dogs for ticks and fleas.

There was a wooden chair pushed in the corner next to the cushioned examination table. Howie gestured haphazardly to the examination table, “If you could take a seat up there, that would be fantastic. Your name?”

“Bus Driver. B-U-S, D-R-I-V-E-R.”

Howie scribbled on his clipboard.
The bus driver guided Leo to the table, and Leo sat upon it. The bus driver sat down in the wooden chair. Howie took out a metal reflex mallet and smacked Leo’s knee with it. Leo groaned in pain and rubbed his now sore knee, “Hmm. . . Overly sensitive to pain,” muttered Howie.

“Is it bad?” asked the bus driver.

“We can’t know just yet. There are more tests to be done, but it’s not looking good I’m afraid.”

Howie reached under one of the blue cupboards and removed a high powered flash light. He turned it on and pointed it directly in Leo’s eyes. Leo covered his eyes, “Paren a ese loco diablo extranjero! Me está cegando!”

“Hmm. . .” Howie muttered and wrote something down on his clip board. He turned off the high powered flash light and stowed it away under the cupboards whence it came.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I’m afraid not. I’ll have to do further expensive and unnecessary testing, but the pulmonary diagnosis tells me he’s suffering from airborne leukemia. This would explain the speaking in French, the aversion to mild light, and being highly sensitive to pain. The leukemia most likely infected his eyes first, hence the unexplained eye irritation and confusion. He’s most likely unable to see his surroundings properly.”

“Are we in any danger, doctor?”

“Most likely not. Airborne leukemia isn’t typically spread through hosts. Typically it comes from a rare tropical flower that will sometimes bloom in New York during the spring. The flower is called Leukemius maximus. Its pollen is the cause for ninety six percent of all airborne leukemia cases. So we should be safe,” Howie explained calmly.

The bus driver nodded and watched the disoriented and confused Leo as he spoke. “Is there any treatment?”

“Alas, the only treatment is very tricky and expensive. Tragically, most are unable to procure it before the airborne leukemia renders them confused, blind, and exclusively speaking in French.”

“I didn’t ask the cost! You don’t understand! I can’t let this guy end up like that! We have to do something man!”
“Well. . . There is one cure, but you don’t understand the risks.”

“Dammit man, I don’t care the costs! He’s like a son to me! A son I don’t understand, just met, and hit with a bus!”
“Very well. . .” said Howie gravely, “deep in the dark heart of California lies an ancient Aztec temple. In the temple is the cure to airborne leukemia.”

“What is the cure?”

“It is said the heart of the first victim of airborne leukemia is there, preserved in a jar. If your friend here opens the jar and touches the heart he will be cured.”

“Whoa. That’s really hardcore. How do you know all this?”

Howie shrugged, “Veterinary school.”

“Well then, I will have to quest there. What will my bill be?”
Howie looked down at his clip board, then back to the bus driver, “Five hundred and eight dollars.”

The bus driver pulled a leather wallet from his pant pocket and handed Howie a five hundred dollar bill and thirty two quarters. Howie pocketed the money, “Thank you, and good luck curing your friend.” 

The bus driver left the clinic with Leo and climbed aboard the bus. He turned the bus on; the same song still blasted. The businessmen had finished off their bag of marshmallows. The bus driver looked over his shoulder and checked the businessmen carefully. “Good. No one choked this time.”

He started off down the street. The bus zoomed down the street at thirty seven miles an hour. California would be a long drive. In fact, many people had died trying to quest to California. The bus soon reached the bridge off New York City. A chunky, middle-aged man in a guard uniform stood by the bridge entrance. He signaled for the bus driver to stop the bus. Being the law abiding citizen he was, the bus driver turned off the bus and got off to see what was going on.