28 July 2006
When I lived in Sliverville I used to take the train into Dope City so I could drink all I wanted and not have to worry about puking a flame down the side of my car on the way home. Everything in the train to Dope City can be hosed off when it gets puked on. That train has been puked in so much it should be called the Puke Train.
In my Puke Train riding days people were not being killed around the stations all the time like happens now. Just before I left Sliverville for the tranquility and perfect boredom of Steepleton the riders were starting to get more and more ugly though. Now they have armed motherfucking police on the trains to keep the killing near the trains but not actually on the trains. Every once in a while some parasite with a gun brags publicly, "There have been no killings on the train." Nobody pays much attention to the men and few women the good people of Dope City know as Puke Train Pigs.
I saw the best t-shirt ever on the train one day. Sonja and I were hogging a couple of good seats Sliverville people always got because we were at the beginning of the train's run. A long haired greasy fucker was standing in the middle of the aisle talking with his hot mall rat girl friend. I read his t-shirt and stifled a chuckle before I asked Sonja, "Hey. What does long haired slimeball's t-shirt say?"
Sonja read out loud, "SHUT UP AND FUCK."