The helpful murderer

I’m running late to work, as always, and I’m dodging sleepwalkers all the way down the passage from the 7 train to the V/F train. I run down the stairs, see the F and jump in. My triumph and heavy breathing turn to embarrassment when I notice that the train is not moving. I make my way to the other side, get settled in and pull out my book to read, then realize that I’m standing next to a full raving lunatic. He’s a short guy in his late 30s with an unkempt beard and coke-bottle glasses, and he’s in the middle of a breathless rant: “Look at you white people, all afraid, I will cut your fucking heads off and laugh. The police will come and arrest me and I’ll fucking kill them too,” etc. etc. The train is still not moving when a woman rushes in much the same way I had before her. She looks at the guy and asks “Is this the V or the F”? Without interrupting the rhythm of his harangue he says “It’s the F” and continues to tell us who he is going to murder and how.

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