Monday morning I don't have work, but I like to get up at the crack of dawn anyway and head to the train station to take the 始発. The night before of course I'm slamming beer, and not the good stuff or even the okay stuff, just straight のどごし. Once I've had enough of that I head to Sukiya and dump half a bottle of Tabasco onto some cheese gyudon with extra eggs, and wash it all down with sips of whisky (black nikka, my niggardly friend).

A few hours later I awake outside a trashed koban bleary eyed but grinning. When I get on the train, I immediately stand next to the hottest chick, knowing the chikan jijis will pile up behind us thinking that the crowding will mean no escape for the poor girl. The fools, they have merely cut off their own escape.

Once the train staff shove the latecomers in, I wait for the first soulless salarydude to thrust forward against the girl before springing my trap. Locking eyes, I let all of my liquid hatred burble out my ass. Panic spreads among the crowd as they realize, there's no way out. Minutes last for hours, a baby cries. Liquid justice seeps down my leg onto the floor. It's the worst gassing experienced on a Tokyo subway since 1995. Eyes watering, noses crinkled, still no one breaks the 和.

The next stop they all rush out, leaving just me and the girl. "Tasukete kurete arigazizoes!" She cries, and starts fingering herself, using my seepage as lube. But I don't do what I do for tropical fruits, so I turn her down. "Just tell me your name!!" she cries as I leave the train.

I turn and tip my fedora as the doors close... "I'm just another regular 外人"