Waiting For The Antichrist

[It’s a dreary day. In fact, every day is a dreary day, which, sets the vibe for the people gathered in their usual stretch on a concrete platform; beneath a rusted overhang, waiting for the subway. A man crams his way through the sea of weathered denizens. Faces buried in print, tablets, or iGlasses. All except him. And then there was her]

[Man] Oh, hello. Am I early, or too late?

[Woman stares]

[Man] For the tram, I mean

[She glances down the row of waiting passengers, a line of people as far as the human eye can see. Then down the other side, equally long; sighs, and returns to staring forward. A leash trails from her hand, to a small dog on the ground. It looks nervously up at the man, peeing on the jeans’ leg of another man wearing an idiot’s grin. Lost in the screens over his eyes facing up, towards the metal overhang]

[Man, nervously] That’s a cute dog. Waddya call it?

[Woman] Archibald, is not a dog. He is a good boy.

[Man] He? Ya dog told you its preference, eh? Yeah…. I hadda dog, no shit! All the damn thing wanted t’do was lick its dirty nuts, then lick me. Nuts, face. Nuts, face. Nuts, sometimes my mouth. Sometimes, ya know, I mean…well…look! I didn’t encourage it, ya know? Ya know, but sometimes, yeah, ya know, nuts to my tongue. Hey—I know! I know! Ya know? But yeah…fucken, Hours. Nuts to face…. I dunno, it made’im happy. That how yours told you? It was a male dog?

[Woman stares. Without emotion] Please don’t speak.

[Man with an offended air] Yeah, alright. Fuck you, and ya dog, lady.

[Woman is visibly upset, but not for herself; erupting] CHILD

It is—He goddamnit! HE Is My C H I L D. C-H-I-L-D. Not just a dog. Do you…Jesus Christ! Do you compute, sir?!

[Man squints. The tram encroaches like a large, barreling bullet. His face sours, and in real time turns to revulsion. The tram grows louder, larger in view. Backing up, retching, crossing himself while visions of revelations dance in his head. Flashes of the Babylon Whore cackling in a wash of blood. The Antichrist eating roasted children, and of course, the Beast. The BEAST! This…dog! Ever with the woman’s words resounding; My Child He Is My Child Not a dog–A dog–dog–dog–dog Good Boy–boy–boy–oy–oy!] I never had the heart for religion, never! But there’s no scientific explanation for this perversion.

[Woman cocks a brow with curious concern] Excuse–

[The tram arrives, he pushes the woman into the barreling behemoth before finishing her thought. He turns to the dog. It looks with quivering eyes, shaking, piddling, the man can’t bring himself to do it] Maybe…Yeah! [scoops up the dog] In good hands, we can turn the tide! The enemy won’t suspect it!

[At last, the tram stops. The man boards with everyone else, and takes a window seat. Dog licks man’s face, then curls in his lap, and closes its eyes]