One Saturday night at fourteen minutes past ten, on a train calling at Stechford, Lea Hall, Marston Green, Birmingham International, Hampton-in-Arden, Berkswell, Tile Hill, Canley, Coventry, Rugby, Long Buckby, Northampton, Wolverton, Milton Keynes Central, Northampton, Bletchley, Leighton Buzzard, Watford Junction and London Euston, Brown found himself in the company of FlatWhite, MilkyBar and TightyWhitey.
The train had only four carriages and was meant to stop at every station between Birmingham and London. Surprisingly, it was very quiet. In fact, four of them were the only passengers in that carriage. FlatWhite had gotten his name from his height. He was a short man who had been waiting for his growth spurt for a few years. MilkyBar wasn’t much taller, and he was quite chubby, you know, from eating all the white chocolate. TightyWhitey was all about the torn skinny jeans. If you ever peaked into his closet, you would only find black t-shirts and torn jeans. Despite the diversity in their shapes and sizes, they were united by two things — their Arsenal caps and Arsenal scarves.
Brown, a skinny boy, took a deep breath as he wore his coat like a blanket. It was very late. He needed some sleep. I wish I had ear plugs. He sighed.
“Oi oi! What a match mate!” said FlatWhite.
“Oi oi! Wasn’t it mad?” TightyWhitey elbowed MilkyBar.
“Oi oi! You bet!” MilkyBar was a little less excited by Arsenal’s victory. He secretly supported Chelsea. He couldn’t say that to the lads because they were his best mates and they’d fucking kill him. The things people do for friends!
Brown had an itch on his ankle. He lay his coat on the empty seat next to him and started scratching his ankle. Oh, the pleasure. Just as he was about to pick his coat up, TightyWhitey snatched it and grinned at Brown.
“Fancy coat, Mista. Mind if I keep it?”
“Please, I’m quite tired. I don’t have the energy for these games.”
“This ain’t no game, Mista. What’s your name?”
“It’s Brown. Can I please have my coat back?”
Brown’s heart stuttered. He did not want any trouble.
“Brown!” The three men laughed. “Come here Milk. Feel this coat. Ain’t it luxurious?”
MilkyBar came to the coat like an excited child. Just as he was about to feel it, TightyWhitey slapped his hand.
“Wipe your fucking chocolate hands, would ya?”
“Look,” Brown interjected “would it help if I told you that I was an Arsenal supporter too? In fact, I’ve got a bottle of wine in my bag. You guys can have it to celebrate today’s victory.”
Out of nowhere, FlatWhite’s fist landed hard on Brown’s face. He screamed a few foul words.
“You cunt! You think we are some lowlifes looking for some booze? Just you wait you sod. You’ve messed with the wrong people. We can be worse than your kind if we wanna be.”
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was merely offering it as a gesture. Please forgive me, I don’t want any trouble.”
Brown’s mouth was bleeding and his body was shaking.
The three men laughed. “Look at him begging! You look like those lads they show on the news, with their sob stories. No food! No water! No money! You think you fool us, Mista? You just want our fucking money. We ain’t letting you have any of it.” said TightyWhitey.
Brown screamed for help. There was no response. They were travelling in the rear carriage and most passengers had left the train two stations ago. FlatWhite said ominously, “Looks like we are all alone tonight.” Brown tried to run. He failed. The men were big, the train was narrow. A station came and he yelled for help again. There was no sign of a human soul at the Rugby station. Another punch came from TightyWhitey and a few kicks from MilkyBar (he didn’t punch because he was too afraid of being told off for using his chocolatey hands). Brown was left aching, crying, and bleeding. However, the men were not done yet. They tore Brown’s coat and used the pieces to tie him to the seats. Brown kept screaming but the carriage was a quiet coach — the doors were soundproof. TightyWhitey took the bottle of wine out of Brown’s bag and broke it on Brown’s head. A drop of blood dripped into his left eye. Bloodshot eyes, quite literally. The pain and the fact that the predators now had sharp shards of glass at their disposal finally shut Brown up. Through the blood and tears on his lips, he whispered, “Please don’t hurt me. Take anything you want. I will do anything you ask.” The three men sneered. The first turn was FlatWhite’s. He proved the flaw in assuming the size of a man’s penis based on how tall he may be. FlatWhite’s nine-inch erection tore through Brown’s anus. Brown had no energy in him to scream. It went on for three whole minutes that seemed to last three hours. TightyWhitey was next, determined to break his predecessor’s record. His seven-inch erection did not hurt. Nothing hurt anymore. Brown was a numb body — it’s existence reduced to a hole. The record was broken. MilkyBar had the tough challenge of four minutes to beat. He was gentle. He took his time. He even kissed Brown’s neck. This angered TightyWhitey. He slapped MilkyBar and shoved the broken wine bottle up…
Waking up from a dream with sweat dripping down your neck and your heart racing is never a good experience. Add to that the gross embarrassment of a public erection! London was a few minutes away. He could see the crescent of Wembley stadium passing by. MilkyBar had fallen asleep with a half-eaten chocolate bar hanging from his mouth. The other two were watching the football match highlights on a phone screen. They exchanged an awkward nod with Brown.
***
Next morning, Brown sat down to write his final exam at university — a psychology exam.
Question 1: Define ‘Implicit Bias’.
