NIGHT TRAIN

As the train pulled into the station, he woke up and he thrust his hand into his pocket. His balls were itching. He wondered how he awoke on a train, of all places. There had been so many different wakening locations ever since the rainy day in the desert when the “sunny day bubble” he saw in the sky had changed his life. Some sort of portal, he thought. A chance to be someone else, somewhere else. He thought about that bubble a lot since he’d seen it, and how he could possibly utilize it.

The train slowed to a stop, and he saw how crowded it was, and wondered if anyone on the train noticed that he was even on it, and itching his balls right in front of them. Of course, they didn't notice, he deducted. They were too busy, doing whatever it was they were doing, in the train.

Fully awake now, he saw many, many people dressed in costumes. Some were laughing. Some were crying. Some were staring at the floor, or at the ceiling, or simply staring out a window. He quickly noticed that all of them, men, and women alike, wore a hat with a big, white feather poking out of the top of it. It seemed that the feather was the only thing they all had in common.

Taking a different seat, as the train pulled out of the station, he felt odd. He was now part of this train car full of characters, but somehow felt separate from them. None of the other passengers would look at him. It was like he was invisible. The train was gaining speed, and he felt trapped, and uncomfortable.

He saw a hat, with a big white feather, on the seat next to him, and put it on his head. Suddenly, everyone on the train looked at him, smiled, and began directing their many, different conversations toward him. In a few minutes, it seemed like he was the center of attention, and found himself getting more relaxed and comfortable, as the train sped deeper, and faster, into the night.

He began to notice things about the other passengers on the train. For instance, the girl in the seat in front of him had a laugh that sounded like a tommy-gun. "Het-het-het-het-het". But she didn't smile when she laughed...just made that queer sound. The man in the seat in front of her would take his front tooth out, toss it in the air, then put it back in his head, twist his head back and forth real fast, and say," Didge ya wink? Didge ya wink? Didge ya wink?" over and over again. The guy across the aisle, standing in front of his seat, would jerk his knee up in the air, and fart, and say, in a high octave, "WEEEZER!" each time he farted. EVERYONE on the train was doing SOMETHING QUITE ODD, but no one paid any attention to what the others were doing. It was as though each individual was performing for himself...keeping himself occupied with his little quirk.

So, he stood up, thrust his hands into his pockets, and started jiggling his balls. Nothing happened. No reaction from the other passengers. They all kept doing what they were doing. He found himself getting infuriated that no one would take notice to him jiggling his balls. He dropped his pants, pulled on his shorts so the fly parted, and let his balls just kind of ooops out...still no reaction from the other passengers. He began to jump up and down, wildly...his package dancing painfully as it bounced up and down...STILL no reaction from the other riders. What the hell is with this train, he thought...

Re-dressing himself, there, in the middle of the aisle, he arrived at the conclusion that he didn't want to be any part of this train. Too many weird-o's, too many sick-o's. Too many self-absorbed psychopathic nimrods on this train. He gathered his things and got off the train at the next station.

Walking up the steps that led from the station, he passed a group of smartly-dressed business types, who, as they passed, turned around and said, "Hey, asshole! Where'd you get that stupid hat?" They all broke up in laughter. He realized he still had the feathered hat he'd gotten on the train on his head. He quickly took it off, and threw it to the ground, stomping on it. As he walked down the street, he came to a telephone, and decided to call his wife to come pick him up. He was too tired to walk the rest of the way home. After telling her where he was, he hung up. Standing there, on the corner of 16th and Moyamensing Ave., he felt his balls itching again. He looked around, saw that no one was paying any attention to him, and slid his hand into his pocket, and jiggled his balls and scratched his itch.

Suddenly, he was being pummeled by night sticks, fists, black-jacks and pistol butts, all over his body. Cops and citizens were screaming, "QUEER! QUEER! MOLESTER! MOLESTER!" at him, kicking him, and throwing him around the street. As he lost consciousness, he saw the bubble appear up in the sky, like the one he’d seen in the desert that time. He tried to stand steady, and to reach for it, but fell back down in weakness. Then, he saw the large, white feather from his hat blow past him, and heard the rumble of another night train leave the station...and venture...deep...into the night...