Awkward Ride Part 3
by
W.X Hunter

THE FOLLOWING IS BASED ON A TRUE STORY
Final Part.

They obviously had been drinking .Scott, Troy and the VB shirt wearing bloke obtrusively  approached us, while Slut and the man with the black beanie waited near the door. 

“What’s in the bag fuckhead ?” Troy asked me.

I had been referred to as “dickhead" by Jay on the way to Arthur’s gym now a “fuckhead” by Jay on my way back.

“Not much “ was my reply.
Scott sat silently, bemused and patient, waiting for one of them to turn their attention towards him.

“What’s in the bag cunt?” the VB tee-shirt guy said.

I had my boxing gear and book in my bag. I reached into my bag and took out the book.

“Look here if you really want the book you could get a copy at the Mentone library. I must warn you, I am finding it a little laborious, so if you insist on having it man you can pay me $1.50 for it.”

Scott started laughing.

“What are you laughing at ?” Jay asked.

“This guy” answered Scott.” Referring to me.” He’s a funny bloke.”

“Got any money Cunt ?” Troy asked Scott.
                
“You better not lie.” Jay stated.
 
 “Well as a matter of fact I do” Scott stated.

I looked around the group. Slut seemed impatient, although not overly interested.

“Give us your money!” Troy demanded.

“That’s not going to happen,” was the reply from Scott.

The black beanie wearing bloke with rings on his hands and tattoos on his neck stood next to the door, while Jay, Troy and the VB shirt wearing bloke continued  this question and answer session.

“Mate I have got $53, no wait $54.35 and you ain’t getting it.”Scott stated.

  Both Scott and I conveyed to these thugs via our casual demeanour that we were not at all intimidated by there bullish behaviour. This seemed to leave the group somewhat perplexed. The train stopped at Mordialloc Station. Jay, Troy and the VB shirt wearing bloke walked to the door to where the Black Beanie fella with tattoos of moths on his neck stood .Slut sat indifferently playing with her mobile phone. Upon the train stopping, another two men joined the group much to the delight of the others, as sophisticated handshakes were exchanged. They were both big blokes - one wore a white singlet. He was 6 foot 4 inches with silver earring, the other slightly shorter wearing an adidas track suit and a white bandana on his head.
 
  Scott and I were out numbered six to two or seven to two if you include Slut. In an age of political correctness I will call it seven to two. The group gathered except Slut in what looked like a basketball ‘time out huddle’.
 Scott looked at me and advised, ”Hit these guys bodies not their heads or else you will fuck your hands” showing me his clenched  right fist with his middle knuckle protruding  abnormally. I had no time to enquire how he had disfigured his fist, although I presumed he spoke from experience. As the group led by the tall white singlet guy approached us sensing confrontation, Scott stood up and I emulated him.

 Nervous and out numbered, I said “Listen we don’t want any trouble. We would like to get the train home.”

Jay interjected “This one is a smart cunt .”

Sensing a confrontation, the Asian couple wisely moved from their seats and headed towards the door.

Scott stared at the tall man in the white singlet and he reciprocated.

“Smash him Craig,” shouted the VB shirt wearing bloke.

“Belt the Cunt,” the peroxide blonde Troy ordered.

 Scott and Troy were caught in a statuesque stare.

A previously silent Slut yelled”, smash the fucking bastard Craigo!”

I had not even been in a street fight let alone a train fight.

 I assessed the situation. My main concern was the Vodka bottle held in Jay’s right hand.

 Craig taller than Scott by a at least 6 inches threw a right  punch that Scott parried and punched Craig in the left rib cage.

Craig made a heaving sound  as the air involuntarily left his lung.

Scott put his right forearm on Craig’s neck and continued to punch  his  ribs. As though Craig was an inflatable mattress and he wanted all the air out. Scott removed his forearm and Craig collapased silent and bent.

 Jay realising that  a bottle of Vodka could be used as a weapon went to smash the clear liquid over my head. I blocked it with my left arm this caused the bottle to fall free from his hand. Instinctively I threw my right hook connecting on Jay’s chin.

 Jay fell, knocked out before his head hit the floor. As he lay motionless, I looked at his tattoos and it reaffirmed my opinion that they were cheap and shit.
  

The bloke in the adidas tracksuit and white bandanna came at Scott with some round house kicks.
The VB shirt guy looked at Troy, who seemed concerned. I decided to channel my efforts on Troy.  As I did this, the VB guy went past me and retrieved the bottle.

“Smash him with the bottle!”, Slut screamed.

The VB bloke attempted to break the bottle on the wall, albeit unsuccessfully.

“Just smash him!” The female ordered.

Scott ignoring his own advice, belted the white bandanna wearing bloke with a left hand on the nose, causing him to fall backwards over the seats rendering his white bandana from his head.

On the fifth attempt the bottle broke and sense of accomplishment came over  the face of the V.B shirt wearing man.
This was to be short lived however as I 
 picked up my sports bag and hurled it at the weapon wielding man hitting him flush on the head. Scott ran over, wrenched the bottle out of his hand and proceeded to lecture the young man.

"So you think your a tough bloke ? Hey ? Hey ?" Scott questioned with no answer reciprocated.

 This left Troy, Slut and the Beanie wearing bloke.

“Haven’t you done enough ?” Troy pleaded.
  
Not answering, I slowly walked towards him.

Edithvale station and the beanie bloke departed without saying a word.

I cornered Troy and punched him in the guts. He fell to the ground winded. Just like Scott had done to me less than an hour earlier at Arthurs boxing gym. Troy had got off lightly. 

 We had given Craig three broken ribs, Adidas man with the  white bandanna  a broken nose, Jay with a broken jaw,VB man a sports bag thrown at his face that caused no physical damage. Troy winded. Slut shouted “You’re going to die you bastards”


I looked at Scott and rolled my eyes.

“Are you Okay ? I asked

“I’m alright,” he said
 
“What about them?” I questioned

“They’ll live.” 

The train stopped at Cheltenham station Scott picked up his bag ready to depart.

“This one is coming with me,” Scott professed, referring to the VB shirt wearing bloke. Fearful he complied.

“See you at Arthur’s on Tuesday,” said Scott.

 Shaking his hand I said “Scott I am going to have the next week off”

“Well see you next time” Scott led the thug off the train.

   I looked around. Craig was on the train floor in the foetal position. The white bandanna bloke was using his bandanna as a handkerchief to capture the blood from his broken nose this caused his white bandanna to now be red. Jay holding his jaw in place .Troy was pretending he was still hurt.
 
   The train stopped at Moorabbin station and a middle aged woman went to get on the train but decided to change carriages upon seeing the blood that was streaking from the bandanna wearing man’s nose.

 Slut began another inane tirade “You and your mate are dead when I find out who you are?”

I responded “My name is Patrick McQuade. I work at Joyce cocktail bar, so if you are going to kill me can you do it after the 17th as I want to see the Hopkins V Trinidad fight”

‘Your dead,” her tirade persisted.

“Shut up Sharon!,” yelled Troy

I heard a grunt from Craig indicating he wanted her to keep quiet, however Slut persisted with her rant.

 ”Your Fucking dead…

Troy ordered “ Sharon ,shut up for fuck sake!”

The train came to Bentleigh station. I took one last look at Jay holding his mouth,
Craig nursing his broken ribs, Bandanna bloke holding his nose together with his bandanna, Troy looking despondent and braced myself for Sluts final verbal barrage… 
  
                            By W.X  HUNTER