The Effing Train

What is up with the F train? Since that big snowstorm a while ago, it can't seem to get its act together -- it's always late and smells of sweat and booze. Yesterday, Jenny could not meet me for lunch because it was wasting away in some pool hall with a bunch of nasty broads; and two days ago, I almost missed my Cardio Club dance class, because it had tripped on E the night before and was lost in Coney Island. What an inconsiderate assbrain!! And today, once again, I waited and waited, hoping for any hint of its orange face. I kept asking myself, "Why do you stay? You can take the R train. He doesn't deserve this kind of loyalty." All of a sudden, I knew that everything was different when a slew of armed police officers ran out onto the platform and over the loudspeaker came a voice that said, "Attention customers, there is a delay on the F train because a customer has activated the emergency break. Please be patient." And then a second later, "Attention, can the transit police on the platform please meet the train...there is an unruly customer." Anywho, it wasn't the F train's fault this time. It was the fault of the psychotic maniac who was pulled from the first car. So, for now, I'm sorry I doubted you, Trainy.


P.S. When we finally got on the train, another idiot shat his pants. But it wasn't this guy.