  The flies swarmed in the train like a Biblical warning to the pharoah. Two weeks ago, we smelled something like garbage coming out of the ladies' power room (the toilet used by the last vestiges of suffragettes in the 1920s). The cupboard under the sink revealed nothing. It was odourless. The smell tricked us. It enticed us into the ladies' power room. It probably wanted to slam the door shut behind us and trap us there. But, being vapourous, it lacked the strength to push the door. As soon as we were in the ladies' power room, it rushed out to stink up some other part of the train.
Now there are flies everywhere. Stuck between the window panes, in a glass sarcophagus - like inmates on Alcatraz, they can see the wonders of the outside world from their prison, taunting them with bright lights and good times. Something died in the train, in a place we cannot find. The maggots grew up into flies and have grown bored with their corpse feast. It's time for a little steaming dung to satiate their appetites. A few flies escaped. One even attacked the cleavage of a young Japanese lady. "It's time to vacuum them," said the Boss Man. "Not me," I said. "Not me," said J. So it fell upon the Boss Man to remove the carrion-eaters. The flies between the two panes of glass stayed put. The bathtub, meanwhile, could have passed as a murder scene.
Or a suicide. Or a natural death while bubble-bathing. It had the hard-to-remove stains of a decomposing corpse. J. and I would need a scrubber. The Boss Man told us there was one in the Haunted Broom Closet. I accompanied J. down to the basement, we got a bucket and the scrubber. Then we dragged a hose around the train, sprayed the tub with water while I rubbed off the first layer of dirt.
Underneath the black were rusty brown stains. Evidence of old blood. "I'll need some cleaning solution! " I demanded. First I got some dish detergent, then paint thinnner, then a white powdery substance that required gloves. An hour's labour turned the bathtub white again. "It's good enough to bathe in!
" said J.
If you don't mind laying in a coffin. 
