Superior Vena Cava (SS)

Blue Line. The lights on the wall of the tunnel flashed past and flashed past and flashed past and they made me dizzy and I started thinking about my Mum sitting in front of the window with the sun making her old tired face neon bright like the Coke Sign in Kings Cross, and Oscar kneeling obediently stuffed at her feet. It made me start to cry and then I blacked out. When I came back there was a stupid bitch with her legs crossed sitting facing me and she was wearing a fucking tight snakeskin dress that was so short I could see her skid-marked mauve panties which were probably from Target. I gagged loudly at her and she gave me this look that made me want to rub a kilo of Ajax Oven Cleaner into her pussy with a scourer, to try and get rid of that fetid smell. I jumped up and pushed past her dirty big potato knees and lurched down the aisle, and I turned around and shot evil into the back of her head, and the cockroaches crawling around in her nasty Nice 'n' Easy Platinum Blonde hair got excited, started swarming all over her face. Then her phone rang; sounded like Greensleeves or maybe it was an icecream truck grinding her sagging arse into the ashphalt in front of my primary school.
I sat on a short seat facing away from everyone because I really couldn't handle any more fucking ugly people today. I really couldn't. I sat and I pulled out the timetable and opened it to the middle, where the map of the world was. All the different coloured lines snaked all over the page and I got hard so I put my hand into my pocket with the hole in it and touched myself. I could've come right then and there but I'd lost my Gowings handkerchief on the Red Line last week and I hated being sticky, especially on Thursday, late night shopping.
Some faggots were drinking Bundaberg Rum for fucks sake and the shit that came out of their mouths was embarassing to say the least. I turned around and they were right behind me, and they had some girl lodged in between them, she was staring straight ahead while one of the chumps had his hand on her tit. All three of them were wearing South Sydney Rabbitohs jerseys, and they stank like Bundaberg Rum and I felt the MacDonalds Happy Meal that was slowly rotting in my stomach do a backflip. I shot each of them in the head once with my Thompson Auto Deluxe and sprayed their carcasses with Glen 20, which kills the bacteria that cause bad smells. The big turd on the left honked like an ass and a fleck of spit landed on the girl's face. She didn't even notice.

Pink Line. I woke up and we were stopped at Campbelltown and there was no one in the carriage. I sat up like a rabbit and grabbed my bags and ran down the steps and out the closing doors. My arm got stuck but I pulled really hard and then my bag got stuck but I really yanked it and the handle ripped and all my timetables were in that bag. I screamed at the fucking guard to stop the fucking train my timetables are still on the train but the fuckhead didn't hear me and it was then I felt very, very sick. I cried and punched the train as it pulled away and I threw a 5 kilogram bag of Jiffy Firelighters at the guard's stomach. He doubled over and fell, but his belt got snagged on the handle just outside the door and so he got dragged upside down along the platform and his face was a bloody mess by the time he finally fell free, 50 metres away. And as the train picked up speed it suddenly slammed into the pylon holding up the overbridge, which collapsed crushing the driver beyond recognition and that night his wife was being fucked in the arse by the Russian delicatessen owner from next door and when she got the call from the station office at 5:37am she screamed for three hours and then when their only son was finally asleep in his own room she took 29 Zyban Tablets with a bottle of Midori Melon Liqueur while staring at herself in the unwashed pans in the sink.
I watched the train disappear into the night and I wondered how the fuck I was going to once again get the timetables for every single bus, train, ferry, tram and monorail service in Sydney. I threw up into the pot of a large artificial plant and noticed stringy bits of something that may have been the lettuce in my KFC Bacon and Cheese Tower but I wasn't sure.

Yellow Line. There was a Sydney Ferries ferry chugging along in this gorgeous pool of white light, and I closed my eyes for a second. I saw the inside of the ferry, actually inside it, into the engine, and the engine was a glowing rod of energy that pushed the ferry through the water. I felt my hand touch the engine, and these lines started crawling over my skin, marking the routes that my blood travelled, each stop carefully inscribed, timetables rolling out into infinity, precise, absolute, no margin for error. And the trains and buses and ferries and taxis and trams and monorails and cars all interlocked and flowed as one, always on time, no peak hour, no traffic jams, no road rage, no accidents, the streets paved with golden neon signs and green lights and buildings covered in gigantic smiles complete and whole.

Green Line. A really campy Lebanese fag sat next to me and lit a Peter Jackson Ultra Mild and then smoked it while staring out the window onto the main street of Guildford in this horribly vacant way and you could tell that there was nothing behind those glassy green eyes. But he was so beautiful and I tried to smile at him but all I could manage was a sad smirk. So instead I grabbed the cigarette out of his hand, and while it was still lit I ground it into his Nivea for Men cleansed and toned complexion and when I took the cigarette away there was a dark, smoking black hole which turned out to be his mouth and what it said was: Do you mind not sitting so close to me you like smell really bad do you ever even shower? And your teeth are like green jesus!
So I kissed him on the mouth and breathed in the smoke that was billowing from this gaping hole and I could see inside him. He was a hollow shell filled with smoke and the inside of this shell was lined with thick black tar. It was then I realised that I knew this cocksucker, that his face was 12 foot high and was right now smiling down on a seething mass of Sunday shoppers in the Central Business District of Sydney. I fell in love with him not long after that.