Friday Fiction — The Pipe Worker

Henry sat on the train and read the book he had found at the coffee shop while waiting for the barista to prepare his drink. He looked up and saw a gentleman in blue jean overalls and a blue denim shirt. In his right hand was a peculiar looking lengthy pipe. Quite unusual, he thought, and wondered of what use it possibly had.
It was too long to have any function in a standard apartment bathroom, for sure. It had too many widgets, or so it appeared, to go under a kitchen sink. The man’s face was worn, wrinkles starting to set in and bags under the eyes from too many short nights of sleep — too late to bed and too early to rise.
Henry’s thoughts were interrupted by the shout of a man. He had started yelling at everyone on the train, one at a time. “You make me ill,” he would say to one person sitting and reading a newspaper, “and you need to go away!” he continued to a man playing a game on his phone.
There was a woman sitting by herself, trying to breathe in through her nose and out through the mouth. She was more than a little pregnant, so to speak, and as uncomfortable as she had been before just sitting there the presence of this tall angry man made everything so much worse. The man moved over toward her and stood in front of her, putting his face inches away from hers.
“Look at you!” he said, his eyes on hers. His eyes were purple and his clothes were as well. Eyes of the train were all on this confrontation, and she coughed, not breaking away from his eyes. He sneered and raised his palm saying, “What right do you have?” and he was quickly interrupted by the tired man in the denim.
The man had stood from where he had sat and in one move, brought the pipe crashing down on the staring man’s head. He stared no more and crumpled down to the floor of the train. In one corner of the train, a boy of ten pushed the button to contact train authorities and explained what had happened, while a crowd had gathered around the formerly staring fellow to hold him down. This hadn’t been too difficult as the train had enough of a crowd to get people to restrain a partially conscious man — but not enough to actually stand up to him while he was still a threat.
When the train had reached the next station, a few police officers got on and started speaking with passengers about what had happened. The major issue was now that nobody could find the man with the large pipe — or really give a proper description, or how such a frail looking man could take down a hulking bully of a beast.

He would rise again, another day.


One thought on “Friday Fiction — The Pipe Worker

  1. Pingback: Improving Your Wait Time Starts Within! | blog of gordon davidescu

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