One gray afternoon, there were five people standing at a bus stop. There was a minister with his clerical collar, a school teacher, a mechanic, a professor, and a street walker.
The bus was running a little late, and so they all lined up eagerly when they finally saw it approaching. But when the doors came open, they all stepped back suddenly, because sitting there in the bus driver’s seat was a bright angel in white, incandescent robes.
“You . . . you are not the regular driver,” the professor finally stammered.
“No,” said the angel. “That’s because we are not going the regular route.”
“Where are we going? If we get on?” said the school teacher.
“We are driving to judgment,” the angel said. “After that, it depends.”
“If we get on,” said the mechanic.
“Right,” said the angel. “Up to you.”
“What if we don’t have the fare?” said the minister.
“I don’t take fares,” said the angel. “Anybody coming?”
With that, the minister hopped up the steps, and turned to beckon the others. But the only one who came after him was the hooker.
As the doors closed and the bus pulled away, the school teacher sneered. “That figures.”
The professor laughed. “No fare. Who ever heard of going anywhere decent for no fare? He’ll probably drop them off down by the waterfront and they’ll have to walk back. And he will have a lot of explaining to do.”
The mechanic pulled himself up straight and said, “My old daddy always said to carry your own weight. Pay your own way.”
When the next bus came, everything looked normal, and so all three of them paid their own way. And they all went ten blocks, seventeen blocks, and twenty-one blocks respectively. But that night, after each got home, all three of them died in their sleep. And after they had died, when they looked down at themselves, they saw that they were all naked, and filthy. They were all standing together at a different kind of stop, and had nothing with them at all. Well, almost nothing. When they opened their hands, they saw that each of them had bus fare.