Arrrgggghhhh!

I hadn’t planned on rogering her silly last night. But you should have seen her… legs up to her armpits and lips like Turkish Delights.

 

“What time is it?” I asked, when I woke up in her bed the next day.

 

“Ten past eight,” she muttered through her lipstick-stained pillow.

 

By the time she asked “Why?” I was already dressed. Ten past eight! My train was at nine-o-seven! From Euston station! The other side of London!

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” I bellowed.
“Good heavens, are you OK?” she asked, jumping up in the bed.
I had no option but to gag her and tie her up. Her questions were slowing me down. I yanked her front door off its hinges and hurtled down her grimy staircase.

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” I screamed again as I got halfway down. Screaming like this served to speed me up (just like it improves a shot putter’s throwing distance).

Upon reaching the bottom step, I dived through the window above the entrance doors, performing a precise tuck-and-roll amidst the shattered glass. I landed at the kerb’s edge and came face-to-face with a little cat. Instinct told me this feline would come in handy later so I scooped it up.

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” I screamed hurtling up the hill to Harrow-on-the-Hill station.

 

As I ran I saw a policeman climb out of his car and look in my direction sternly. I thought fast and threw the cat at him – which he managed to catch. I arrived at the station to discover I had no money on my oyster card. The train was here in two minutes. I didn’t have time top it up! I thought fast again.
“Look here madam,” I said to the girl at information. “Outside is a man posing as a police officer and he is torturing a cat.”

 

In perfect timing, the cat screeched. Karma regularly rewarded me at such time – I think because I often opened doors for ladies and I always said please when purchasing goods.
“I not cat person” she replied in broken English
“He terrorises dogs too,” I said quickly. “By setting insane cats on them.”

 

With that she was off.

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” She screamed, hurtling out in fury.

 

I hopped over the barriers and ran down the escalator. An old man blocked my way so I flung him onto the adjacent escalator going back up. Such sloth-like movements shouldn’t leave Harrow… I arrived at the platform with a minute to wait. It was now eight-twenty-five. I was cutting it close.

 

The train arrived, I jumped on and immediately saw my first problem: an overweight gentleman reading the Daily Mail.

 

“Now look here Sir,” I said to him. “I need to be at Euston before nine-o-seven. Your weight will slow us down. Please alight here. You can take the next train in two minutes.”

 

Unfathomably, he took a jab at me. However his flabby fingers were no match for my nimble limbs and I dodged him. I heard the ‘doors-closing’ warning noises and looked around for something to help me get this dead weight off the train.  This is when I saw a lady in a burka… I scooped her up and held her up at the chubby Daily Mail-reader.

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” he screamed when he saw her and promptly dived out just as the doors closed.

 

I plonked the burka-lady back down at her seat. Alas, a small man was now sitting there. But I didn’t have time to remove her from his lap and marched to the front of the train and knocked on the door.

 

“Excuse me train driver, can you please speed up? It is imperative that you drive as fast as you can!” But there was no reply. I tried knocking again to no avail. I realised what I had to do: blow my way through. I marched back to the burka-lady.

 

“Madam, are you by any chance carrying any explosives?”

 

“No Sir. I am of the peaceful persuasion.”

 

I was at a loss. This is when the small man whom she was sitting on spoke up.

 

“I have a stick of dynamite in my satchel. I will give it to you if you remove this lady from my lap.”

 

The exchange happened in seconds and I marched back to the front of the train with the dynamite.
“Move back everyone!” I demanded.

 

I lit the dynamite and hurtled back into the previous carriage. Bang.

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” cried everyone but me. This was not my first train door I had exploded. And it wouldn’t be my last.

 

I hurtled though the smoke and yanked open the melted door. The driver lay slumped on the controls. He must have had a heart attack prior to the explosion. Thank God I blew through the door to learn of this. I checked his pulse – he was still alive, thank God.

 

The driver’s hand was clasping a green stick. I pushed it forward and the train sped up. We raced past Wembley Park station. I needed to change at Baker Street for my connection to Oxford Circus, which connected me to Euston. We were going as fast as we could but it was still not fast enough. I looked back at the passengers behind me and realised the problem… I picked up the tanoy:
“Good morning everybody. Due to unforeseen circumstances I must ask you to alight the train. Alas, I will not be able to actually stop the train so you will have to jump out whilst we are moving. I apologise for any inconvenience.”

 

There were grumbles of irritation but when I opened the doors the passengers obediently did as they were told and hopped out. I considered throwing out the driver too. However I reasoned that as he was unconscious he might not land effectively (a good tuck-and-roll was imperative). Besides, we had sped up quite nicely by now.
That’s when the message came through the train driver’s radio to say that the Bakerloo Line was severely delayed due to signal failure. This was the line I needed!

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!” I screamed.

 

A bus would never get me to Euston on time.  A taxi would take too damn long to arrive. No… I needed wings.  And then as I neared Baker Street I was hit with another dose of tasty karma: a helicopter landing on the platform ahead.

 

I brought the train to a standstill, jumped out and came face-to-face with three policemen aiming rifles at me.

 

“Stop where you are!” one said.

 

“Put your hands on your head!” said another.

 

I did both.

 

“Are you the bomber?” the third barked.

 

I suddenly became aware of the sirens and noticed that the helicopter was no ordinary one… it was a police helicopter!

 

I very nearly told the policemen the whole yarn  (I’m convinced they would have understood my actions completely). However it would have taken too damn long to explain. So I told a white lie. I just hoped karma didn’t punish me for it…

 

“There was no bomber, officers. The train spontaneously combusted. Furthermore, the train driver had a heart attack – unrelated to the explosion I believe – and I stopped the train myself. The passengers are scattered between here and Wembley Park.”

 

As expected, the officers lowered their weapons and patted me on the back for my bravery. They tended to the driver and I demanded that I was escorted to Euston station by air.
“It is imperative I catch my train” I told them.
I was soon flying to Euston by police helicopter. It was now eight-fifty.

 

“Can’t take you directly to Euston I’m afraid mate,” the pilot said.

 

“Why ever not?” I exclaimed.

 

“No landing pad. Closest we can do is Kings Cross.”

 

“I’m afraid that just won’t do. I would miss my train – it is at nine-o-seven.

 

And before you could say ‘Give me a parachute!’ I said it instead. And after saying it and being given it I attached the chute bag to my back.

 

“Are you sure about this mate?” the pilot asked.

 

I performed the sleeper hold on him. I could not have doubt in my head… I nestled him down on his seat then put the helicopter on autopilot. I stared down at the streets below, gulped then out I jumped.

 

I flew down at the station. I could see Kings Cross, the London Eye… I yanked the cord of the chute bag and flew back up then slowly sailed to earth. I became concerned about my landing because I had bad knees so I honed in on a feminist protest. The backs of five strong women broke by fall. I got up, pulled off the parachute and hurtled into the station.

 

Thirty seconds I thought.

 

“Arrgggghhhhhh!” I yelled, which propelled me forward like NOS gas.

 

The information screen told me my train was at Platform 15. I hurtled onto it and dived into First Class just as the doors closed. I did my trademark tuck-and-roll to come face-to-face with a guide dog. I decided not to scoop it up because, quite simply, I didn’t need it.

 

The train started moving and I searched for a table seat but all of the seats were taken. One lady was jabbering on her phone and I doubted she would notice if I moved her… I carefully picked her up and placed her on an aisle seat then sat down in hers.

 

“Nearly missed my train,” I told the lady opposite, with a sigh of relief. I told her my tale and she listened in complete fascination. When I finished she spoke… something about why didn’t I just take the Metropolitan Line to Euston Square but I wasn’t listening at this point…

 

You see, this lady was a pretty lady… a real sight for sore eyes. Cheekbones like cut glass and an impressive bust that made me both horny and hungry. I could tell she was impressed by me too.

 

I saw the ticket inspector enter the carriage and I felt my pockets for my tickets. This is when I realised then that I’d left them on that girl’s bedside table. Karma for my white lie earlier on?

 

“Aaaarrrgggghhhhh!”

 

Written by Gareth Brown @GarethBrown26

Gareth also has Booksie page for his stories and Youtube Channel for short films.