Misery!' shouted the man who appeared to be a priest. I wasn't
sure at first whether he was talking to me or not so I had a
look around. It appeared that he was. He and I were the only
people aboard the train carriage so I turned back to him and
'I'm from Stevenage. This is my first trip to London.' The Priest
was already standing at this point and, against the movement
of shuddering train, began to race down the carriage towards
where I was seated. He was rather old and seemed to be having
a bad time of it.
Suddenly I could feel his hot wet breath on my face, for our
heads were now only centimetres apart.
'You a fucking Protestant, boy?' He demanded.
'I don't think so.' I replied. 'I don't know actually.' He looked
to one side for a moment, then turned sharply and belted me
in the gut. Luckily for me, his age made for a fairly soft blow
and I was only mildly winded by the attack. When I could speak
again I looked up.
'Are you a protestant?' I croaked. He hit me again, this time
a little harder. I think he may have hurt himself in doing so
as he fell back into the seat behind, clutching his fist.
'Fucking Misery. Fucking misery.' He groaned.
'Is there anything the matter?' I asked. He did not respond.
Soon enough we rolled into Kings Cross station. The man who
appeared to be a priest had not moved from his seat or even
tried to reengage me in conversation. I collected my belongings
and made my way out the door and onto the platform, glancing
briefly at him before he disappeared from view. Halfway towards
the barrier I was suddenly gripped with a peculiar rage regarding
the situation. A painful realisation that this priest had had
no right to talk to me this way dawned on me from out of nowhere
and brought hot blood to my cheeks. I turned on my heel and
marched straight back onto the train.
Sat in the same seat, the priest only had a moment to look up
at me before I kicked him in neck. Silly cunt shouldn't have
fucked with me. Cunt's lucky he didn't end up stabbed!