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The Stench Connection
The Stench Connection
I was standing on the elevated portion of a subway station waiting for the train along with a few other stragglers who were also late for work. Three unsavory looking characters who had been sitting on the floor of the platform when I passed strolled up to me now and asked if I had any money. The stench that emanated from them was unbearable. I shook my head while holding my breath and walked away from their stink. They pursued me until one of them said “empty your pockets”. I said I have nothing. He put his hand in my pocket and I abruptly pulled away. He said “don’t do that or I’ll cut you”. I said there are people all around, what do you think you can do? He answered, no one will help you, we do this every day.
A train pulled into the station and slowed to a stop. Luckily the door slid open right in front of me. I took one giant step and I was in. They stood there on the platform of the station in there putrid decomposing bodies staring at me as the doors to the train slid shut with me safely inside. I waited until the train began to move before I gave them the finger. They turned and started running toward the platform staircase that led down to the street. What did they expect to do, chase the train down? Where had the lazy bastards gotten all this sudden energy? Probably from never working a day in their lives. The train began to slow as it approached the next station. I jerked my head around hoping to see the word express printed on the sign in the window. Local. Why hadn't I read the sign before I digitized them? The train hadn't saved my life; it just prolonged it.
The train came to a gradual stop and the doors opened. So far so good, no sign of them. Then heavy running footsteps on the staircase. It was them. Just as the doors shut one of the smelly bastards managed to get his arm in the door and it reopened letting them all in. Fortunately the car they entered was in front of mine. Just before the doors closed again I jumped out of the train and ran down the stairs onto the street and hopped in a waiting cab. The two rear doors were wide open with no driver. The cab had a familiar aroma. Even with three pine trees hanging from the rear view mirror it still smelled worse than the usual New York City cab. A man in a purple turban ran across the street waving his arms in the air. I've just been mugged he said you’ll have to get another cab. I knew that stench was familiar.
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©2012 Lee Zett