Everett, 20

Fucking Bill. Living in fucking Bay Ridge. Fucking Brooklyn. If I had a car, this would be a fifteen minute drive. Or a jet pack. But, NOOOOOO, I have to take the E from Queens to the R through fucking Manhattan into goddamn Brooklyn.
One hour and twenty five minutes. This trip is, according to Hop Stop, going to take me one hour and twenty five goddamn minutes. Fuck me. Fucking Brooklyn.
And then there's the delays. The we're-the-MTA-and-we-have-a-surplus-oops-did-I-say-surplus-because-I-meant-deficit-and-we're-going-to-raise-the-fare-and-reduce-service-and-none-of-you-sweaty-balls-commuters-can-do-a-fucking-thing-about-it-because-you-don't-own-a-car delays. But at least the air conditioning doesn't work. I'd hate to not be able to smell that inside-of-a-pimple smell that homeless guy's got going on.
And the TEASE of that one E stop. On the new E that talks to you and smells nice and is icy cool. Then? Welcome to the R. Which stands for "Rigid Cock That Fucks You In The Ass". One stop on the E and then fifteen thousand stops on the R. The sweaty R starring the Funky Ass Hobo.
Naw, that's waaay too kind....
First off, "funky" might be misinterpreted to mean "eclectic" as if it might pertain to his taste in clothes or music or something. And "hobo" makes me think of guys with perfectly manicured five o'clock shadow, a cigar and a bindle.
This is a stank ass homeless guy.
Stank ass like a bag of jizz soaked socks.
OLD jizz soaked socks.
Usually you get used to smells 'cuz your nosebuds die or whatever, but these fucking nosebuds JUST AIN'T DYING. "R Train of the Living Nosebuds!" starring Everett Mills as the Funk-Assaulted Hero. God, it's fucking PALPABLE.
Shit, you'd think the mass of people between him and me would somewhat mask his funk but it's like it's moving through them to get to me. Like they are a CONDUIT OF STINK. Christ. This fucker smells like scab and anus pie. And he looks fucking dead...
Oh shit. Oh fucking gross! That shit on the news! Oh groooss! What if that motherfucker's sick with it?! Shit, what did they say about it? Something about close physical contact should be avoided...HA! Oh shoot, and I was going to blow this guy. God. Well, no one else seems to give a shit, so, fuck it, I guess.
Oh wait...no, he's not dead, I can see him twitching in his sleep. Well thank God. That would have caused EVEN MORE delays. Some Good Samaritan Fuckhole who was planning on getting off at the next stop would be happy as a pig in shit to yank that red cord, stop the train and let us sit here in the hobo-smelling stillness and just...grooooove. Asshole. Imaginary asshole.
Oh balls.
And speaking of delays...
Hm. Okay, I think what the conductor just said was "Luhguhm ben hed by dapata. Pees aktif hed. Pees sto com an pash wil bo go shurly". Which either means "prepare to sit quietly in a sweltering, stank-ass, non-moving subterranean tube for a shitass long time while I punch myself in the dick" or "whip 'em out gents, a toothless old whore will be by any moment to get your drink orders and flog your dolphins".
Ugh.
He isn't just twitching anymore...he...OH MY FUCKING AUNT! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO EAT FOR YOUR PUKE TO BE THAT COLOR? JESUS! IT LOOKS LIKE FUCKING SHOE POLISH AND CORN OIL! AND...OH MY BROKEN CLOCK! FUCKING SMELLS LIKE DIARRHEA SUSHI!
That's it, put this over a barrel and fuck it. Next car down here I co-
Oh good. You know what? Whatever. Who fucking needs lights?! I'm here, that fucking guy is over there...I just need to move away from the stink. God, that's sinister...people, the fuck out of my way...oh calm down you sissies...what's the matter, you never smelled the stomach contents of a New York homeless man before? Welcome to the party, tourists...
Yes. Of course. Brilliant. The door is locked. Yes. That's super awesome.
Oh...and our gallant conductor has more to add...
Uh...you have to say something, brainchild...
*sigh*
Good, at least we know the button works.
Ouch!
Feedback much, you fucking retard? Jesus, fucking pull the cock out of your mouth before you talk! Shit, you know, this is probably as intelligible as they get.
God, what the fuck are these idiot tourists screaming about now? Don't worry, they won't start the Lion King without you...why did I leave my fucking iPod at home?
Fucking Bill.
I am never going to Brooklyn again.