My target, just sat there, perusing the carriage, he wore a thick black coat well even though it must have been hot, being as it is mid-July. I don’t think he’s seen me yet as I am well shielded by the seats, tables and irritated commuters between us.
I enjoy my journeys but commuters annoy me. I audibly growled my annoyance at one woman earlier who was kicking up a fuss about the “Quiet Carriage” she seemed to think it meant she should be able to hear a pin drop and was making a fuss much louder than anyone else around, flapping her arms around at the train manager like a demented parrot. She very nearly blew my cover.
I want to move closer, but something stops me. Maybe it is too soon, a strike now in front of everyone on the carriage would perhaps be foolhardy, I’d certainly be in the doghouse that’s for sure. At least it would give the parrot lady something real to complain about. If I waded in now and hit my target I’d be extra loud just to stick in her craw.
But no distractions, that would give him the upper hand. If he won, as unthinkable as it is, it would be terrible. I’d have to leave the train, tail between my legs like some amateur. I’ve seen off bigger foes than him before. If I bide my time and strike only when the time is right, it will be him that is forced into retreat with only that smart black coat to hide his shame.
The train ambles into another station. Our air conditioned bubble is momentarily burst as people take one last look around for lost belonging before leaving to be replaced with strangely similar looking people. Faces different of course but they moved and even smelt the same. Anxious, hurried each and every one. I can only assume that no-one wants to be here.
The train began to trundle on it’s way. He is still there, he’s spotted me. I give him the signal.
Nothing, no response.
I signal again, just in case he missed it. I catch his gaze. He looks away. Good he can’t bare to look at me, he knows he is well out of his depth here.
Nothing stopping me hurtling down the train towards him, that bastard, sat on my train. I’ll show him. I grit my teeth and bound towards him with all the power my short legs can muster, there was no doubt that this was no longer a quiet carriage as I got as close to his face as I could, snarling, teeth snapping. This place was mine, how dare he be here, near my person.
Then I heard the words that always stopped me.
I hit the floor, and waited to find out if I was a good boy.