The Cab
It was shortly before midnight when I realised I had begun my cab driving shift without first going through due process. I had failed to aquire my class 5 license which would actually permit me to perform the occupation. I also realised that I had not yet been hired by a cab company and the rusted van with darkened windows was by all appearances not a taxi. The passangers I had just picked up from the back alley of a pub required more coercing than I anticipated. Their stubborness to wear seatbelts resigned me to use rope as restraints. My passangers looked awefully distressed with the quality of my taxi service and I had to agree that driving on three wheels was not as smooth as having all four tires. As we barreled down the freeway it dawned on me how unprofessional this whole thing was and how irresponsible it must have seemed to the young people huddled and gagged in the back. So I jumped out.
