It was the type of night where a person would rather find themselves in the comfort of their home, than tackle the undying reputation of sleeplessness belonging to the urbana. The utter silence was broken only by the sound of this very seldom car driving at madman speed down the road that had found itself empty of all traffic, and by the screams of the car as it tried to halt its advance. This sudden attempt to stop was of course in reply to the Jay-drunken-stumbling of an equally seldom John Doe. The collision had some lights turned on, and the black silhouettes appear in the windows as specters of accidental deaths. This of course, was but a back drop to the third rare party of a man in a business suit trying to quietly march himself down into the metro for the final train of the day.

Though the light of the station was contrastingly bright, the place was no less desolate than the city above it to the stranger. The vague movements in the corners of his eyes had made him jumpy, he jumped into the air at the sound of peeps of the rats running about the tunnels, until leaning against a pillar and idiosyncratically hugging his atache, he fell into a brief soma while resiting to himself in silence a mantra known only to himself. The screeching of the halting train had caused his awakening. Once more he found himself floatily walking into brightness, as the inside of the train's lumination had been easily twice as intense as that of the station about it. He had to squint stepping through the door, and sitting down in the faux leather seat in front of him, he tried to fall asleep again with his mantra. Everything shook with motion, yet a particular motion in the corner of his closing eyes made our stranger turn to see another man, who sat right beside him. Our stranger was perplexed - an awkward situation. Two strangers would sit separate. They need not mind each other. Just as he thought this, the darkness of the binding tunnel melted into an infernal tye dye. Our stranger had confused what was happening for a dream and once again felt safe despite the other stranger sitting next to him, however he stared forward at the metro train's door silently.

"You're wrong," uttered the other stranger, as the train began to angle itself one hundred and eighty degrees until the two men were sitting upside down. The sunbright lights turned to a red hue. "Ever in the wrong, you."

Our stranger continued staring forward, mumbling silently his mantra to himself. He rubbed his nose.

"No need for a reply, it'll only be wrong. Everyone is wrong," the stranger smiled saying this.

Turning, our stranger noted the other's appearance. Tall man with extremely messy hair, dressed in a dirty trench coat, a holey scarf, fingerless gloves. Yes, the perfect definition of what one would call a bum.

"And why is this so?" the business man meekly replied.

"If I told you, I'd be wrong."

"Oh," what he should have said was nothing following, but he proceeded beyond his better judgement, "You don't know." Looking at the man in front of him, the business man thought that they were the perfect juxtaposition of people, sitting next to each other a bum, and a man of neat appearance.

"I know all the wrong answers," was said so quickly that the business man failed to comprehend for a moment, as the train's normal interior began turning into a digestive tract of an elephant. "I know, for example, we are not inside of an elephant. But this is wrong."

"It's wrong to say we aren't in an elephant?"

"It's wrong to say we are. It's wrong to say we're not."

"Where are we then?"

"I'd be wrong if I told you. But that is wrong."

The business man gave up, saying, "Okay," and going back to staring at where the door had been. When he wakes up, it should be right in his sight. A stop should wake him up. Moments later it came, and he didn't awake. He was still inside the digestive tract of an elephant. The business man honestly tried to wake himself, but found it to be impossible. Panicking, he stood up, and began smashing the bottom of his fists on the lining of the intestine.

"You're incorrect. But that is wrong."

"Shut up!" with a whiny voice.

Smash smash smash, everything gained the rainbow colors again.

"Life is a journey they say. The Journey itself says the Night Train Does Nothing for Anyone. But both of those are wrong."

The business man didn't understand the reference and sobbed to himself.

"You are of weak will," the bum disappeared but his voice continued on. "But that is wrong."

"You make no sense!" replied the business man panicking whilst everything about him kept changing shape. All he wanted to do was go home, and he was caught in a loop of gorish insides of an animal, a train not following the rules of physics, his office.

"That may be true," the voice replied in laughter, "But that is wrong."

The train continued flying through the tye dye.
The man continued being wrong.
The voice continued being wrong.
Morning came, and the only difference the world had noticed was that traffic was especially slow the next day.