Obscene Animals: An Audio Short Story
- Jason J. Cross
- 5 days ago
- 4 min read
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Obscene Animals
No matter how often they say they clean these things, the New York Subway smells like garbage. Not like ordinary garbage, mind you. That would be bad enough, but I am talking about something worse. People. They all smell horrible.
Walking into the subway car, I notice that it is relatively empty. It is the first stop on this train, so not many people get on it. There are plenty of seats for everyone, but no one will sit near me. Just because I am homeless and don’t have ready access to a shower makes people think they are better than me.
They are not, damn it. With all the scented soaps and shampoo they use, they cannot smell the disgust that is coming off their bodies. The smell coming from my filthy clothes and body could easily be cleaned off, but the odor coming off of their own bodies is far worse. They don’t even realize it.
I am not the gross one here; they are. The smell that comes from their pores can never be washed away. They live in their little bubbles and think they are worthy. They think they should have a roof over their head and food in their bellies just because they shower more. No, they cannot wash away the disgusting smell of privilege.
How dare they think themselves better than me? They are undeserving of all that they have. In the blink of an eye, they can lose everything and become just like me. Just one bad day and everything can be lost. One bad day is all it would take. One lousy day was closer than they could imagine.
Stop by stop; more people come onto the train than exit. The sickening cattle move in as tightly as they can while avoiding me. They would rather stick together than take one of the empty seats next to me. I have my own magical bubble, keeping these foul-smelling jerks away from me.
For years, these people have come onto the same train daily, doing the same thing every time. Just get on the crowded train, pushed together like a can of sardines, and make their way to work. They are so important that they can’t wait for a slightly less crowded train. They can’t be late to their prisons for the next eight hours, so push, push, push.
Doesn't matter to me. I want the crowd; I want them all. Bring me as many as these reeking privileged animals as possible. So please, continue to push onto the train. Continue to leave enough space around me so I can make my move. Increase your numbers in a small space and decrease the chance that you can escape my wrath.
Soon, their precious blood will be all over my hands. Their screams of terror will be all around me. To avoid my punishment, they would push each other against the wall so that even the ones furthest from me would suffer injuries. The ones closer to me will cry out for mercy, and I will show them none.
For years, I have been waiting for this moment. A moment to kill these obscene animals who think their lives are worth so much more than mine. No, it is not, and soon they will realize this. Soon, you will have no choice but to look at me instead of pretending like I don’t exist.
I have taken this train for so many years that you would think I would have memorized many of the faces on this train of death, but I don’t. I am sure they all recognize me, though. The dirty, stinky bum on the train would be all they would talk about on any given day. They would only refer to me as the soiled homeless man taking up three seats—the nameless dirt bag.
Today will be the day that they will never forget me. Not only will the ones lucky enough to survive my rampage remember me, but I will also be talked about all over this city. My face will be shown all over people’s television sets and in the papers. Will it be my current face or one from a time long ago? A time when I smelled like these worthless beings of privilege.
I am unsure if I will even be around to see it, but that doesn’t matter. The train leaves the station and heads underground, going from Queens into Manhattan. There is more than enough time between stops to do significant damage. I could pull the emergency brake cord to kill them all, but I am sure there will be enough time to get most of them. I want to keep some alive to tell the story I am about to put into motion.
I pull out my knives after the doors closed. It is time to start the slaughter.
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