It was another busy day. Full every trip, wise guys and nut jobs, the usual regulars. Then I had a surprise.
On my layover I was walking to my bus and saw what appeared to be... BLOOD! It was splashed on the bottom of the front door. My blood pressure raised a few hundred points. Did I flatten Fido? Squash a squirrel? Pulverize a possum? Chunk a skunk? No smell, no memory of any disturbing squishy noise. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened; I shrugged off the notion.
My next action was a call to Lady Dispatch. I explained the situation. She was calm, asked where the "blood" was located. She didn't sound concerned, and said to make sure and tell the spotter the bus needed a bath. I copied that and hung up. Shrugged. I had done my due diligence. No NCIS van would be sent to test the substance, no news crews (thank God), no supervisors or cops scrutinizing me, no report to write. Whew!
As I pulled into the spotter shack, I told the spotter to look at it and closed the door. He frowned, bent down and studied it. When I opened the door again, he sported an amused look.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's just the grease they use on the doors," he replied with a grin. "Kinda looks like blood, but isn't. And I'm not gonna taste it."
Mystery solved. I'm such a goober.