The Royal Caboose

Rey and I were on the E train going home and there was this woman sitting in a corner seat next to the train doors with this giant black velvet bag in her lap that stood out against her khaki and beige ensemble. And she had tiny gold-rimmed glasses that were the only accessory on her head, except for whatever kind of clip was holding her hair back. She was so plain looking I though—librarian for sure, because they don’t’ wear colors outside the black-white-khaki spectrum. I imagined she would go home and feed her lap dog and write a letter to her great aunt in Calcutta. There was one detail, though, that threw the whole picture off: She started chomping on this McDonalds Quarter Pounder and of course it had cheese. It was so spongy looking, like a brown marshmallow smore with the limp corder of a Kraft singles dripping out the side. And she chomped at it with these chompy noises, but she didn’t spill a single crumb on herself. It was dainty meets sloppy—like watching a walrus sipping tea.

When the train stopped and the doors opened at a station, she leaned over her seat and discarded the uneaten remains of her burger on the edge of the platform outside. She didn’t throw it, but she carefully placed it there, as if a light touch and thoughtful placement could raise half-eaten Mickie D's to the exquisiteness of sushi.

Rey and I stared at her. The doors closed and we still stared. And little miss pig pen stared back! We couldn’t help ourselves and started talking about her loud enough so she could hear:

Me: Did you see what she did?

Rey: Yeah, she's the Queen of the Rats.

Me: Mm hmm. She’s gotta feed her subjects.

The law of the sceptor is the law of the land, so there’s no need to consider the mores of the masses: L’etat, c’est Rat Queen!

Rat Queen was defiant, even proud of her actions. She looked at us with a wry smile, a smile that said: I have the power, bitches!