Internal Monologues of Various Professional Types as They Stand Inside a Crowded Subway Car

An Elderly English Physician

“I say, who is that rubbing up against my thigh? I’d turn my head to see but then I might end up embarrassing the both of us.”

“I really must stop chewing those cinnamon Altoids. They give me the winds something awful and I’m quite sure I may be on the verge of rupturing my colon if I have to hold this gaseous thunderstorm in any longer.”

“Oh Good Lord, it’s that new medical intern that just started at the hospital this week who’s nudging my thigh. Little brown noser surely followed me on here. As if that’s going to stop me from marking “Mediocre” on his performance rate sheet at the end of the term.”

“Why in bloody hell did we just stop? Does the city only employ illiterates any longer for its mundane blue collar tasks?

“Good God I can’t hold the gas any longer!”

“That damn intern just won’t leave me in peace.”

“Wait a tic. Ah-ha! I have an idea! Okay, and…oh yeah, that feels better. William old chap, you’ve still got it!”


A TV Evangelist

“Yep, she’s going to hell. He’s going to hell. He’s definately gonna fry big time. Thank you Oh Lord for blessing me with the gift of insight.”

“Well, since most people will wind up in hell, I wonder if it’s really all that bad. Fire and brimstone, unquenchable thirst…sounds like Tijuana, really.

“What in hell…whoops, forgive me Oh Lord…what in blazes is that smell?”

“I mean, I was in Tijuana once years ago. Hell can’t be any worse. Oh Goodness, I hope no one ever finds out about that prostitute I saw there. Isabella may not have had legs, but she sure knew how to give some mean head. Forgive me Father.”

“Look at those gays over there, smooching and carrying on. They have no idea what awaits them below. I take it back about Tijuana. No just God would send those perverts to a hell no worse than the same place I landed a sweet beej. Hell has to be bad. Real bad.”

“Sure could go for a BJ now come to think of it. I’ll give Meredith a call, tell her to wait for me in the baptism pool.”


A Rock Musician

“Did that preacher dude just look at me? Fag.”

“Wonder if anyone has drugs on this sub.”

“Everyone disses on “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” by Poison. It’s like the perfect rock song, though. Not that my band mates would understand. Assholes.”

“What the fuck is that smell? Holy shit! I bet it’s that preacher dude who looked at me. Look at him all smiling into his cell phone. What a perv.

“Eeeeeevery rose has its thooooorn! Just like eeeeeevery night has its dawn!”

“I need some fucking drugs! Come on all you suit and tie motherfuckers, whose got the drugs?!”

“Just like eeeeeevery cowboy, sings his sad, sad song. Every rose has its thorn.”


A Literary Professor with a penchant for Ernest Hemingway

“This sub smells.”

“My feet are tired.”

“The sounds outside this sub are loud and remind me of war.”

“Where is that smell coming from? Holy shit that is noxious!”

“I’ve never been to war.”

“War sounds…hard.”

“I need rest.”

“No chair is open. Soon I will die here. Of this I am sure.”

“That smell! I can’t stand it! And why aren’t we moving! Why? Why? This is hell. I am in hell!”

“To die. In the sub.”