nudge

crisp.

clear.

cool.

that's how the bastard's day started. left the window open last night so it was a little chilly. put on the black trench. it's cold enough to dress the way he prefers to dress. i'd do it all year round if i could.

but i can't.

too bad.

the trains are screwed and my usual local that i've been unable to take is running express.

paydirt.

good ride. slow but, good,

"excuse me, sir?"

i'm so tired, my head feels like someone took a shit on my brain

"excuse me, sir?"

one of these days, i'm going to have yo get myself correct.

"excuse me, sir?"

oh, wait, "what? what? what?", screams my head but what come out of my mouth (the one with the gravelly voice) was, "yes son?"

"can i borrow your phone"

instinctively, i tell him what i'd tell anyone, "no i don't have it on me". sorry, it's the force of habit. the bastard has problems.

and this maybe 11-12 year old boy curls up into a ball and starts crying.

holy crap, what have you done now, bastard? this kid is no older than the boy and you shut him down. goddamit!

let's fix it, "what's wrong young man?" i asked, "do you need change for the phone?"

"no, i missed my stop."

"well where's your stop?"

"woodhaven boulevard." and he buries his head in his hands. you know the boy started taking piano lessons this year, he played the star wars theme for me over the phone last night. he makes me so proud and now i feel like a heel. i mean NOT that he could make a phone call from underground but still swap the bastard's head for a cartoon heel.


"you don't need to cry son. i'll tell you what, we're going to stop at roosevelt avenue soon and your going to take the train back three stops and you'll be at woodhaven. just threes stops. then you can make a phone call and tell whomever you need to that you are going to be a couple minutes late because of the trains. do you need change for the phone?"

"i have change."

"good, it's going to be alright."

almost on cue, this older woman hands me a tissue to hand him. he feels a little better and when we pull in, i prick up my shades and tell him one more time, "go up the stairs to the queensbound platform, and take it three stops, elmhurst, grand ave, and you get off at woodhaven."

i repeat this and the tissue woman emphasizes that it's the queensbound platform.

i wished him luck, and i don't recall anymore if he thanked me, and i don't much care. the kid was scared and he needed help. and it's times like this that i don't feel so bad that i live in a large city that pretends like it's a small town. i tell myself he's going to be alright and i think of my boy and all of a sudden, i'm really glad that i wear sunglasses on the train.


ipod's on by the time i pull into lexington.

the bastard got tired of listening to the two teenage girls who finish all of their sentences? in question form?

when i get slapped on the back by this other person who saw the whole thing go down. he was a social creature when he got on the train. probably just as jazzed as i was to get a quasi express train as well.

"you did a good thing back there"

"whu?"

"you did a good thing back there. i saw that kid was crying and i was about to head over there to see what i could do, and there you were, helping him out"

"it took me long enough. it was probably the furthest down on the subway he's ever been"

"but still, by this afternoon, he's going to remember you and think you were really great."

"well, it's like the man says. do a good turn daily."

and then just like that, we went on our way. "the hymn of the big wheel" by massive attack came on the the ipod and the bastard walked up the escalator and thought about the boy. i can't wait to see him at the end of the month. he makes me proud.

this whole being evil thing is TOTALLY not working out for me.

—the bastard