David's Hallowe'en Tales o' Terror, Vol. 3

I do hope you're all quaking in your boots at this latest instalment and the pants-wetting terror of the previous tales. I might post more next week, I might not. Ooooh, anticipation.

Today's tale: Lasht Train, featuring that star of my Lj when i've got nothing better to do than mock him, ukmonty.


The burning yellow of the train lamps shone like eyes through the fog as they approached the platform. Monty pulled himself to his feet and staggered towards it.
"And about time too", he muttered to himself. "I thought I was going to have to wait all night!"
With a shudder, the train halted.
"I shay, driver! Is this my train?"
The driver leant from the cab window. Was there the faintest gleam of sharp white teeth beneath the cap? A shine of eyes glowing like banked coals? "It is, Mister Monty, sir. We'll take you...to your rest."
"Shplendid! Open up, then, eh? I could do with getting my head down."
"Your eternal rest", added the driver, portentiously.
"Really? More indushshtrial actshion, eh? Goodo, I could do with a lie in in the morning. I might have had one over the eight tonight."
"No, sir. Your Eternal rest."
"Come, now", said Monty. "I may work in the public shector but even I have to go into the office shometimesh!"
The driver sighed. "There's no getting through to some people", he muttered, and opened the doors.
Monty lurched aboard and slumped down in a chair next to a drinks cabinet. "Good", he said. "They're finally learning my routine." With that, he dozed off.

***

Monty awoke with a start. He couldn't tell why, but some internal clock told him he had dozed for a long time, but the train still juddered with movement. "Bugger!" he swore. "Don't say I've missed my stop. I don't want to have to walk from High Barnet again." He looked around himself and his eye alighted upon the drinks cabinet beside him. "Shplendid!" He popped it open and started to fumble with the bottles.
"I trust sir is...comfortable?"
The voice was unexpected, and Monty whirled unsteadily around to see the driver standing behind him.
"Well, that'sh debatable. You're out of MacAllan, Glenmorangie, red, white and rose wine, gin, vodka and Drambuie. And", he added, draining a glass of a thick green liquid, "thish Ukranian Abshinthe has definitely sheen better days."
If it were possible, the driver blanched. "You're...drinking it?"
"Of courshe. Sho, when does this train get me home?"
"I'm sorry, sir", smirked the driver with a low, animalistic chuckle. "This is a train which will never get you home."
"Bugger. I've not got on the circle line have I?"
"No...you see.."
"Hang on. If you're hear talking to me, whoshe driving?"
"The driver smirked again. "I see you finally understand. This is a train which does not need a driver. "
"I'm not on the frigging Docklands Light Railway, am I?"
"Look, you imbecile!", cried the driver. "Do I have to spell it out for you? I'm the Devil and this train is on a one-way trip to Hell!"
"How in God's name have I ended up on the East London line?"
"No! You dolt, moron, buffoon! You're dead! D-e-a-d! Damned to perdition, you shall ride this train for all eternity with only your own company and an unlimited supply of Ukranian and Bosnian absinthe! You shall be tormented by the empties of my devilish hordes, all of whom shall sate their thirst upon Sauternes and Brouilly whilst you watch, with only the undrinkable to satisfy you! You're damned! Doomed! Condemned! Your soul shall be tormented until doomsday! Get it! Damned you were and damned you shall b-....what are you doing?"
"Pouring myshelf another glass?"
"But...but...but...that stuff is undrinkable. Secreted from the nether regions of Jubilex himself! It's like a mixture of paint stripper and McEwans Export! You can't possibly drink that!"
"Come now", said Monty, taking a hearty swig. "You know what they say. Needs musht, when the devil drivesh."

The end.