Grab Onto Your Shorts

Philadelphia Kizmot, propulsion systems expert known to his closet friends as Phizz, decided to leave for work a little early, that is eight hours early. He couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be the norm these last few weeks. An extremely important business meeting awaited him in the morning. So important the fate of the world depended on successful results; at least that's what he thought.
Phizz decided to ride the Metro Thrush for a while. The rhythmic hum, gentle rocking and rotting sour smells always seemed to put him in a hypnotic trance that he always found restful, definitely needing a respite so that he could think clearly. He longed for some solitude. Besides, he blended in with the regulars, so people generally kept their distance and didn’t bother him even though he was probably the most easily recognizable person in the world. Six lanky feet tall, weighing a mere 150 pounds soaking wet, with unkempt shaggy dish water blond hair and soft facial features, Phizz according to his mother, would have made a very tantalizing girl. Wearing dated clothes that never seemed to fit properly, were familiarly comfortable making him look as if he shopped at thrift store dumpster.
Sleeping deeply, void of any dreams; his neck bent over the backrest, head hanging precariously over into the rear seat dancing to the beat of the train’s movement. Legs too long for the small space provided between seats he draped them over the front backrest. Slimy drool ran down both sides of his mouth, traveling the length of his neck, pooling in the divot just below his Adam's apple and emptying into the reservoir provided by his yellowed pocket protector filling it to capacity. With each jolt of the train, drops of the clear, slimy liquid escaped from the captivity of the puddle finding the warm delta area of his crotch. His pants soaked with slobber looking like he urinated, not an unusual sight given the time and his location, however quite a spectacle for a business meeting.
“Phizz, Philadelphia Kizmot! Damn it, wake up man! You can’t sleep here anymore. If my superiors find out that you've slept here all night they’ll have my big black fat ass in a sling. I ain’t gonna work no garbage detail. Gots me? Shit man, my old lady is gonna kill me. Believe you me, I’ll kill you first. Damn it Phizz wake up. Boy I’m gonna do damage to your face if you don’t move that bony ass of yours off that seat and get off this goddamn train. Hell, I’ll look beautiful compared to what your face will look like when I get done with it.” Tyreece Delmar Clinton-Bush, aka Darnell, was bigger than your average house, his gray-blue uniform groaning to its limits. Black and nasty mean, mammoth hands, nose two sizes too large, crooked in multiple directions due to several fractures, gently as physically possible for this humongous life form nudged Phizz in the side.
Phizz knew that Darnell didn’t mean what he was saying. Under that hostile exterior was a gentle human being. Besides, this was not the first time that this overbearing black man threatened his life. He ignored the beast trying to get the sleep he so longed. Moving his lengthy legs from the seat in front caused him to choke on the drool accumulating in his mouth.
“Don’t you go slobbering on my train, boy. I won’t tolerate that. You hear me?”
Coughing violently, saliva projected out of his mouth with jerking spasms slobbering spew in all directions.
“Ah man, who’s gonna clean that mess? I sure ain’t.” Darnell lifted his copious leg nudging Phizz with his massive boot. “Move your damn ass wills ya? And clean this shit up. I've gots to go home and see my old lady. She’s specting me home soon. And you's think that I’m mean? I’ve seen her rip the testicles off a rabid pit bull that urinated in her garden. Sent it howling licking its nonexistent balls. So don’t you go making no more mess. Clean up your dribble. You ought to be shamed of yourself."
Gaining control of his spastic coughing, eyes crusted shut, Phizz blurted; “don’t worry brother I'll clean my mess.” Waving his arm dismissing the large angry presence hovering over him. “Just let me get some sleep.” Finally, able to roll over into the corner of the bench sleep came to him quickly.