Mick was on his way home — on the train. It hadn’t been the best few days for Mick. In fact, they’d been shite. But he’d come to accept the news that had come his way and a long train journey home with his book would be good for him. Yes, a long train home with his book then home for summer.

Since his last experience on the train, Mick had seen a film where a guy gets put on a train in a kind of parallel universe and has to find out who the terrorist is — it was mostly shite. But Mick thought he could do this on the train he was on now. He looked around the faces on his carriage but there were no obvious suspects and he wasn’t bothered enough to start taking the investigation further. Besides, Mick had his book to read.

As Mick began reading, someone’s phone went off. Except it wasn’t a ringtone so it didn’t go off — someone was playing something on their phone out loud on this quiet carriage. It was a kid’s cartoon — he could make out the juvenile voices and the daft jokes, that’s how loud it was. It was the kind of volume he’d watch a film on at home. Mick peered over the seats, expecting a parent to be telling their child to turn their show off. But he couldn’t see any kids. Only adults. About six of them, normal looking adults. Mick’s prime suspect was a short Asian guy. He looked like one of those guys you see creeping on girls in nightclubs. They don’t mean any harm, they just don’t understand certain boundaries. Mick felt that this was the case here. Where this guys from no one gives a fuck if someone is blaring their phone on a train or a bus.

The train arrived at the next stop and the sound from the phone stopped. The short Asian guy got up and exited the train and that was that, Mick thought. The disturbance had only lasted about ten minutes and it had given him a detective style game to pass the time. The train coughed and off they went again. Mick returned to his book until the phone started again. This time there was no doubt about where the sound was coming from. A British guy, about 30, sitting about six rows in front was sitting with his phone in his hands about 3 inches from his face. Mick couldn’t see any earphones on him and he was clearly watching something. It was him. Upon this realisation, Mick immediately felt bad for stereotyping the Asian guy at the last stop.

The train slowed into the next station but Mick wanted the phone guy to stay on. He wanted to say something. An older woman got on and sat in front of the guy, a decision she immediately regretted. She grimaced as the screech of an American Youtube video game reviewer filled the carriage. That was the final straw for Mick. He hated that kind of thing. Any person who would choose to subject themselves to that ignorant whine was not a decent human in his book. But what would he say? Mick remembered a few years back there was a crowd of young folk drinking and playing music up the back of the carriage and he’d asked them politely to keep the noise down. For the remaining two hours of the journey they pelted him with their empty cans. But this guy wasn’t drunk. He was just disregarding common train courtesy simply because he could. He knew what he was doing.

Mick stood from his seat with aplomb, the knight the other passengers needed. He strode down the aisle, book in hand, towards the phone guy who still played his video. Once he reached the guy’s seat he stood over him for a moment, weighing up the villain for one last time. Then, in one smooth movement, Mick sat down next to the guy and raised his open book in front of his own face. After a loud throat clearance, Mick began to read from his book. Chapter One, he shouted. It was much louder than he had intended to read and he felt he had to keep this volume consistent for his act to have its desired effect. And it did. After he completed the first two lines from his book, the guy turned off his phone. But how would Mick know he wouldn’t just put it back on when he stopped reading? Mick continued reading, reducing his volume to a more manageable level. He glanced at the guy between sentences, half-expecting him to be seething at this outrageous act of passive aggression. But he simply looked straight at Mick, barely moving, with his mouth slightly open. He looked amazed and Mick couldn’t figure what was going on. Until Mick revealed a minor twist in the book’s plot when he gasped quickly. He was listening to Mick read — and enjoying it.

This revelation angered Mick and he started to read quicker then slower to make his public reading less enjoyable. Nevertheless, the guy’s look of wonder and excitement only seemed to increase. Then, as he was turning to the fourth page, Mick could see something out of the corner of his eye. It was the old woman in the seat in front. She was sitting on her knees looking directly at Mick with the same excitement and wonder that the phone guy had. With this new audience member, Mick stopped changing his pace and began to read normally once more. After all, this was the woman he had expressed sympathy for just minutes before.

Mick was getting into it. He scanned the carriage — each of the five other passengers in his carriage and two more from the adjoining carriage were listening intently to his every word as if he were Jesus of Nazareth listing off the commandments. Each plot reveal received a gasp, each joke received a loud chuckle as he read on. Mick even started to put on silly voices when the characters spoke, which went down well with the audience.

He was coming to the end of the second chapter and his voice was growing hoarse. Mick had planned to take a sip of water and then continue. He stopped for a moment to go to his seat and get his drink and immediately the phone guy called out. Oi, keep going then, the guy shouted. With this exclamation Mick immediately remembered the reason he had begun reading aloud in the first place. This was the ignorant guy who had played his phone volume full volume and now he expected Mick to be his personal storyteller. Mick sat down, facing away from the phone guy. It felt sweet. He’d taken away all the guy’s pleasure and ruined his journey. Just as Mick was getting settled, he felt the pain of a half full can of lager against his head. He swivelled round in a daze, fully expecting the phone guy to be looking guilty. The whole carriage had erupted in laughter but the phone guy was nowhere to be seen. He searched for his only ally; the old woman. She looked directly at Mick then cracked upon a fresh tin of lager.