Too Rude 2

Another one! A man this time. He has moved his feet, with bad grace mind.
This time there is a sports bag on the floor behind his feet, making it difficult for my size 6's to fit on the floor. At least he has his legs spread so that my knees
fit between his, still unless I keep my feet 8 inches off the floor (and who has the abdominal fortitude for that) or put them behind my ears or detach them and pack them in my bag, I cannot sit comfortably.
So I do what I have to do and use his bag as my own private pouffe.
He doesn't realise at first. His nice new bag that Santa brought has now got big dusty footprints on it. I just wish I had a big juicy dog shit under there - you just can't plan for these things can you.
Anyway, he notices where my feet are and he suddenly rips the bag out from under me and pushes it to the side of his chair. Why the hell he is so cranky is beyond me, where was I supposed to put them.  Of course if I didn't sit there in the first place then he wouldn't be put into such a shitty mood first thing in the morning. By the look on his face smartarsery isn't reccomended here so I keep a poker face on my dial and continue to read my book as if the violent flurry of movement had never happened. I can feel the glare, and it never wavers, for two whole minutes, but I don't look up, I don't think this guy is going to respond to a nice smile somehow.
Thankfully I spy a free seat at Redfern, as I get up to move to it he moves to block me. OMG what a tool. I still keep my (considerable) thoughts to myself as he really does look like he might hit me and just push through him to get out. This is over a seat mind you!!!
As I sit and contemplate his rather square almost bald head I wonder how many black eyes the poor bitch he is married to has had over the years. And as he walks down the stairs at Central Station he makes sure he gives me one more malevolent look for good measure and I raise my middle finger in a salute. Hope he gets hit by a truck or I'm going to get my *&%@ kicked tomorrow.