“Well,” asked Liam with a flourish of his hands. “What do you think?”
“Are you serious?” asked Nigel, gawking at the double-decker, crimson monstrosity parked in his driveway. “That’s our new tour bus?”
“Hey, I got it cheap at auction.” said Liam. “It’s got plenty of room for the equipment. We’ll just hang a sign with the band name on the sides.”
For three months during the summer of ’89 brothers Liam and Nigel traveled England playing in pub after pub with their band “Mirage”. Each venue contained fewer patrons than the last.
Sitting inside the bus one night after a lackluster gig, vocalist Liam grudgingly confessed to the band that they were broke and didn’t even have enough cash to pay for the petrol back to Manchester.
“So now what?” asked Nigel sourly.
The rest of the band said nothing.
A rapping on the bus door broke the uncomfortable silence.
Opening the door, Liam saw a large group of Asian people with cameras all strung around their necks.
“Uh, excuse me,” the man in the front of the crowd said, stepping forward. “Is your bus in service for a sightseeing tour?”
Liam grinned and welcomed the group on board.
“Mates, we have our gas money!” he beamed.
* * *
“And that, children, is how your grandpa and your great Uncle Liam started the Mirage Tour Company,” Nigel said, looking down at the kids gathered around his chair.
Word Count: 235
[This is my entry into the Sunday Photo Fiction challenge, hosted by Alastair Forbes. Write a short story of 200 words or less from the photo prompt provided.
My apologies for running over on the word count and also for using such a cliché description of Asian tourist. I got lazy.]