Toxin on the Tube

by Poppy Brown

They all see me and react, some respond in a fake, positive way a fawning smile or grunt, and others immediately show their hatred. I care for neither response to be honest, I focus on my task. Some of those similar to me, are immediately vocal, those are identified quickly, others like myself, prefer to be more covert, slip under the radar, so to speak, but still we all get noticed. Eventually, people stare, people move, people shuffle away uncomfortably. One kind, gentleman gives up his seat for me. He may live to regret it as he is precariously close to me now, close to the blast zone, he will be one of the first to feel the effect.

I doubt any of them know quite how close they are to the toxic meltdown that will be contained in the item cleverly and carefully fastened around my waist. My job is simple, release it when ready and create chaos. The carriage is packed, the panic will sweep through fast, quicker than the breeze will in this sweaty tin can they call the tube. I bide my time, wait for the correct moment, it will be my moment of triumph, a feat talked of for years to come. I wait until the doors close, and we move away from the station, the difficult to open windows and the claustrophobic effect of the train will merely add to the mass panic I shall create.

Now is the time, now is my chance to shine, my chance to show the reason why I was created, the role I was put upon this planet to do....with a movement of my hips, a very simple, natural, movement I release it...the airborne toxin will soon fill the carriage and all hope will be lost. I got on this train with a task, a job if you will, a job I have just completed ....yesterday's swede and cauliflower bake hits my nappy with a familiar moist thud. It's a matter of time before it registers in the carriage. They had it coming to them... all of them... after all who lets babies on public transport?