Thursday Morning

I left home right on 8.30. I figure it is the post 8.30am tram that Friday Man catches. It rained for a minute, just as I was about to leave, but stopped pretty quickly. I love the rain. I love winter. I love getting rugged up from the cold.

There are two high school boys who leave their house, some where in my street, about the same time as I do, every morning. They are, let's say, handsome boys of about sixteen and fourteen in their Xavier blazers and ties and suit trousers. (Tom went to Xavier.) Two gorgeous bookends. They were in front of me as I walked up my street, this morning. The taller one gives me sideways looks, the younger one never reacts.

When the first tram was jammed full, I was left on the footpath with the school boy brother's, after it had slid away. I started following them, as they started to walk up Gertrude Street. The brothers walked up George Street and I watched them go, laughing and chatting, as I walked up to Brunswick Street, Friday Man's stop.

Drippy-Eyed Old Woman, with her usual wet, disease sheen all around her eyes, got on the tram with me, at Brunswick Street. Some rat-faced receptionist played good Samaritan giving up her seat for old Drippy-Eyes, looking upon those who remained seated with scorn.

"No," grunted the old woman. "No."

"Oh, but I insist," said, I would suspect a filthy Christian, good Samaritan Woman. "I'm getting off at the next stop." Self serving smile. "Please. Sit down."

Drippy-eyed woman took the seat with her usual look of bewilderment.

Narcolepsy Donna Chang was also on. She lay across the ticket machine, initially, coughing freely over the buttons. I wanted to grab her 4 foot high face and bang it into the edge of the machine. "Other people have to use that machine, Donna! Hand over your phlegmy mouth, please," as her teeth fell from her gums, one by one.

The seat next to Drippy-Eyed woman became vacant and Donna Chang floated herself over to it, holding her handbag ahead of her, as if it was something diseased. The tram made a sudden stop and she stepped on my foot, as she sailed into Back-pack woman, sitting opposite Drippy-Eyed Woman, grabbing Back-pack woman’s tits to steady herself.

She smiled her gummy, toothy smile at me, as if in acknowledgment of the foot violation, once she'd settled herself. Yes, yes, get some sleep you freak, I thought. She smiled again, as if to acknowledge those thoughts, just as her hands slipped around her hand bag and her eyes slipped shut and she was gone.

I gazed down at Drippy-eyed woman and decided I had to move, as I couldn't stand, or sit, looking at the foul old woman all the way into the city, I could barf my breakfast. Besides, back-pack woman, sitting opposite her, was making all the right moves to be getting off.

I didn't want her seat with its obvious drawback. So, I headed to the back section of the tram.

Slitherin was there, ripping up playing cards, go figure. Revolta was sitting, he was standing. They tried to be too clever by sashaying down to a double seat just vacated, so they could do their guppy-faced, canoodling nonsense that they do. But some whippet of a girl slipped in front of them and got one of the seats, so they had to sit facing each other. Of course, they lent forward, pushing their faces close together. Of course, they made sucky-mouths. Of course they were just vile! Revolta made some joke about the fat man with coffee behind his back, grabbing her chest and making dead faces with her tongue hanging out.

I looked up and down the car, no Friday Man. Damn. Hardly surprising, since I got on at his stop.