why people wave at trains

a burly man of the agile looking type was standing near the door as the train took off, waving at a lady of his acquaintance, who was waving back wildly, hurling abuse at the train people. i reckon she has missed the train. there won’t be another one for some time, he thought. i shouldn’t have waved. he decided to forget the episode.
sponge and breadroll had missed this train. there was no doubt. they had ran into a woman hasting the other way. she was waving wildly. somebody she know, said breadroll. very well, said sponge. we’ll wait.

a train a train again

it was a cold train. airy. gusts and drafts from all sides and no comfortable position to get warm. it was a train nonetheless. train drafts, platform drafts, what do you want? so, all together, a train. we should not be so boring, said sponge, and always talk about it. trains and trains people.
did you see the other one smile the other day, said breadroll.
sponge hadn’t so breadroll could not tell his story.

stuff about train people

annabloom is alive, a spraying reads. hardly a mural, says sponge, but it is new. when did that happen. blink to breadroll, a breezelong missing block of wood. every now and then.
breadroll. walks. says nothing. the display is blank. apolises for inconvenience. shortly. wind. who is annabloom. a new mural, tiny.
to tell a joke in the way of train people:
t’pit and supplistrong caused their holy of thould of stong an ove t’yourn and then ream, thou haph, and arsht?
inass indeed, answeet heave clourned him. and the orf said, all on cubime: and arose me flees. no-ah; and with wet, too.

train people are what

train people can be creepy, call themselves train staff or something organised. many encounter them without knowing who they are. they tend to inflict pain. they do. they want to.
they apologise for inconvenience caused.

to meet the train people

to ask, to dare. who wouldn’t. and who would? the train man would look at the ticket, would nod and out? he would look at the ticket, and again, and compare with what, and look at the ticket once more, just to make sure, would say no, no return, no can’t get back in, cunt, he wouldn’t use those words. off you go the train man says.
sounds easy enough, said sponge. who wouldn’t try.
hang on, the train man says, wait a second, let me see again.
not necessarily, said breadroll. there could be complications.
freedom is just another word for a day spent outside a train company’s detention cell. and i shall protect your freedom by locking you in the bogs. the man seems satisfied with his decision.

train down south

we start again. said sponge and breadroll, too. this time we move (yeah). proactively.
we won’t crack jokes because we feel we have to but because we want to, said block of wood, because we, too, would laugh if we were told these jokes, heartily. we won’t break wind though.

yet to arrive the train is

well i don’t see much, said sponge, but that doesn’t mean much and certainly not that it certainly isn’t there. it may well be arriving any second.
any second, said breadroll, that’s why they have churches beside train station; when people are desparate they would be driven to religion.
prayer, said sponge, the last resort for the commuter.
the time display announcing the train’s delay was adjusted. some-one apologised on behalf of others.

of cars and trains

any news yet? they were sorry to announce.
good. at least some development.
trouble at pearse. the usual.
it would be any different.
bridge strike. a polo.

on the train

breadroll, sponge and block of wood were waiting for a train. there won’t be one today, said breadroll, not today anyway.
how do you know?
the loudspeaker just announced it, said block of wood. you can’t trust the loudspeakers in this country, said breadroll, they’re in with the benches. all the seats.
the bench i talk to, said sponge, is very elaborate and of beechwood.

© the Book of Sponge and Others.