Lord of the Public Transport: Part II

The saga of my battle with the nefarious Victorian Department of Transport continues...

"The themes of good and evil have never been more strongly contrasted...a truly gripping adventure." - The Age

"Edge of your seat thriller guaranteed to leave you in an awe-struck state of shock. Amazing stuff." - Beryl, loves being invented and then quoted on blogs

When last we left our plucky hero (me), he had sent a most urgent missive to the Department of Transport, politely offering them one last chance to redeem themselves by recognising that the $172 fine they threatened him with was unreasonable.

Regrettably, their response only revealed their inability to empathise, and reiterated that he must pay their fine. And it is now that we pick up our story once more...

His hands trembled as he held the thin, crisp white sheet sent to him by the Department of Transport. Adrenalin and rage coursed through his veins, and he unleashed a cry of fury. Gnashing his teeth, he tore the paper apart, ripping each hatefully typed word into a thousand pieces*, before hurling the torn shreds from the highest tower of his castle**.

But as the rage subsided, and the bold red of righteous anger faded from his cheeks, he felt cold, calm purpose enter his consciousness once more. For there was work to be done.

The fine would be paid. Oh, yes, it would have to be paid. But there was still the question of his ticket, which had been abducted on that fateful day, and still languished, most likely in a decaying and mouldy cell***, at the hellish headquarters of that most unholy of institutions. There were trips left on that ticket. Trips on trains, trips on buses, trips on trams. That ticket had a life left -sunshine not yet felt, ticket validators not yet met, links to new places and train stations not yet forged...

And the boy knew with a comforting finality that he would never abandon his ticket to abuse and murder at the merciless talons of the Department of Transport.

He would seize it back.

Drawing up his favourite letter set and quill, he began to write with driven purpose:

Dear Department of Transport,

To say that I was disappointed with your curt response to my previous letter would be an understatement - nay, a downright lie!

If it was in blind trust that justice would be served that I wrote my previous letter, then it is in jaded cynicism that I write this. I will of course pay the fine your woefully incompetent administration has sent to me.

What I must also do, however, is demand at once that you release from the festering bowels of your rotten lair my 10 x 2 hourly ticket. God only knows what evil, perverted fate it has met at your grubby and unkempt hands. I shudder to think of the traumatic acts it has witnessed, suffered, and perhaps (and most horrifically) been forced to enact at your malevolent instigation.

You will release and return to me, untouched, my 10 x 2 hourly ticket. If you fail to release my ticket, I shall enlist the help of the Ents to wreak a most terrible and great destruction upon your offices. That's right, I will actually send mythological tree people to tear your premises asunder until I have freed the ticket I promised never to leave.

Yours in impatient and destructive wrath,

Gelati Gecko

As he wax sealed the envelope and summoned his noble palfrey upon whom he intended to deliver the message to the Black Gate of the Department of Transport, the boy gave a grim smile. It had begun.

*The paper was not actually ripped at all, but carefully filed away, as Gelati Gecko was far too clever to destroy a piece of evidence which may assist in charging the Department of Transport for their malfeasances.
**Ibid.
***This is merely an educated guess.