Train Story 3: tuna

Tuna was the dominant smell. The whole carriage was high with the stench. People were screaming, laughing, screwing, fighting. I had thought many thing about the end of the world; I had expected human degradation and desperation; but never the smell of tuna.

Overwrought I struggled out of my seat and down the seething aisle. Passing through first class, I witnessed the wealthy wielding mobile phones like sabres and trying to exchange hedge funds for redemption. It was truly pathetic.

The next carriage offered greater comfort. A convoy of older people than I were sharing stories, piece-meal recollections and what looked like cinder toffee in a companionable way. But even here I could not wait. Still the air wreaked of tuna, just wrapped in Old Spice and lavender. I passed among the content elders gagging, gently fending off offers of mints and other kindnesses.

Thankfully the toilet was next, saving me from the car-load of hysterical students, clearly from the cursing and bellowed prayers, on some sort of trip abroad. The noise was that of the abertoire, even if the small was that of a fishmongers.

I dragged myself into the bathroom, locking the latch with a substantial sigh of relief. I sank onto the floor, my legs no longer able to take my weight.

And that was when it happened. That was when it started to rain fish. Could see it out the small, high up window. Shoals of silver fish falling from the sky. Glimmering in the waning daylight. Rainbows bouncing of scaly bodies. Tiny eyes blinking in mutual astonishment.

And then the toilet started to bubble and boil, like a kettle. And then the fish started to bubble up though the water. Heads gasping as they were forced up the bowl by the sheer weight of struggling sea life behind them.

Like the magic porridge pot, fish continued to bubble out the toilet, flipping on to the floor, flapping round my feet. The cubicle filled too quickly for me to escape, pressing me against the door, the mass of fish pinning my hands to my side.

I held my breath. The smell was now unbearable. Either I could suffocate my self or the fish would do it for me. I choose my own end. What was the point? All was lost.

And that was when I died. What a ridiculous way for humanity to end.

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