Sinking in Bottomless Mush, 3

I spun around and looked at Mr. Steroids with a stare that could bring Hitler down to his knees. Or so I thought. It didn’t work for King kong; he was not a bit apologetic. “Watch where you’re going, little man!” he said to me and turned around.

Watch where I am going!? Little man!? Tell you what Neanderthaloid, the only thing that’d be little is your steroid-filled body once I beat you to a pulp! Lucky for him, I didn’t get the chance to beat him up! Poof, who was I kidding? The man could kill me with just a single punch!

I remained silent, nonetheless, still trying to push my way into the train. A middle-aged lady wearing a bandana behind me whispered in Filipino “That’s alright, you know there will always be jackasses.” I was sure she was well-intentioned, trying to comfort me and all that.

But still I wanted to rip her living heart out for that. It’s not friggin’ alright! And lady, that jackass just ruined my life! What the hell is alright about that!?

As soon as I entered the threshold of the train, I quickly ran towards the first vacant seat in sight and planted my bony posterior into it. Countless thoughts ran through my mind like how am I going to explain my being more than an hour late?

Or how would I explain to the client why the papers are now drenched in coffee? Or why am I wearing an army fatigue? I scratched my head in exasperation; searching for answers, realizing that I’ve managed to pull a couple of strands of my hair.

Well, I wasn’t wearing an army uniform. I was wearing a light green polo shirt. But because some klutzy dumb-dumb King kong so graciously bumped into me, bathing my shirt with coffee, it resembled a green and brown army fatigue or camouflage or whatever you call it.

That’s it! I thought. My alibi! I shall tell my client that I'm late because the sky train went off its tracks and ended up in Lebanon. The papers were of brownish color because we had to crawl our way out of the coaches to avoid that missiles; the mud thing’s mud.

And I’m wearing a camouflage because I was enlisted in the army for an hour. Good enough, I’m sure they’ll buy it.

I lost myself in alibi-land that I failed to notice a lady standing in front of me with her plastic bags between her feet. She was clutching a grocery bag in one hand while the other she used to cling onto the safety hand straps.

She was swaying as the train sped down its tracks. I looked up and realized that she was the woman who comforted me when my coffee was spilled; the same lady who I was planning to heart-rip minutes ago.

(to be concluded…)