The Elite

It was a long bus ride.
He sat, looking out the window. His eyes suddenly widened, but only a little. They had passed into a tunnel, and come out the other side. The other side was different. He knew it because his eyes had widened. It got his attention. The things on his side did not. He was so used to them.
The houses were clustered on top of each other, and stuck to each other. They looked beautiful, at least to his eyes. Their gray tones blended richly in the sun light. He was pleased.
He remembered, he had been here before, quite a long while ago. Actually, he used to live here, not exactly here, but more or less on this side.
But he does not now.
As the bus moved along, he started seeing things and places he had seen before, and a few memories came back. "I haven't been here in a long time" he said to himself. He was right.
I haven't been there in a long time either.
He and I both know why. We both know why we do not see those houses anymore, or walk those dirty smelly streets between them. We both know why we no longer see or speak to the inhabitants of those houses. But we do not really think about it, for what does it matter? And we no longer live there!
You see, we are a part of something else, that 'they' are not a part of. We have come a long way, they have not. We know more, we make more, we create more. Hell, we even love more. They do not. We are better. Much better. We know what life is about. We read more. We speak more. We do more. We know how to have a good time. We know how to use our money, because we know how to make it. While sadly, they do not. See...We are better. Have I not said it?
They lack so much. Living in all their filth. All their hatred, suppressed anger, and lack of intelligence. Retards. We have outrun them. By far. Pathetic, miserable, life wasters. That is what I call them.
We, on the other hand, are happy, content, and wise. We know where we are headed, we know what we want. They do not. They are like prisoners chained to a bus without a driver, a plane without a pilot.

He looked out again, trying to come back to the present moment. Sighed, a sigh of relief, and perhaps, just maybe, of nostalgia. But I doubt it, I know him too well. He wondered how much longer this bus ride was going to take.

They, they, they. They are not.
We, are The Elite.
They, are not.
We are.
They, are not.