A doctor informs Donnelly that his wife died at 3 o'clock that morning. He escorts [Donnelly] to her bedside and then steps away, explaining that the hospital is unusually busy—there have recently been two cot deaths and a heartbreaking case where a mother’s son “shot the poor head off her.” Donnelly spends a quiet, unsure moment at the bedside, placing a photo of David, their pet rabbit, in his wife’s view before he leaves.
On the train ride home, [Donnelly] sits opposite a foul-mouthed, chain-smoking young man. The Kid’s abrasive chatter opens a tense contrast with a nearby couple, who are less tolerant of the kid’s bluntness. After a lively exchange, the Kid leaves to fetch something from the buffet car. When Donnelly asks for tea, the kid mocks him. He learns from the couple that their son is one of the infants who died, a revelation that deepens the train’s uneasy energy.
The Kid returns with tea for Donnelly, but refuses payment. The couple leaves their booth, and Donnelly shares the heartache by recounting the couple’s loss. The Kid dismisses the idea with a cold line about parents’ failures, implying that many children are rotten, himself included. The couple reappears, and a heated exchange nearly erupts between the Kid and the husband until Donnelly steps in to mediate.
The buffet car becomes a backdrop for more pressure and awkward humor. The Kid sits beside the wife, who gazes at a photo of her baby; he quips that the child resembles a member of Bronski Beat, a remark that shocks the woman and causes her to topple onto a table, tearing the picture. She exits the carriage in a rush, and the Kid is left to reflect on how far his remarks have gone. Moments later, a thump against the outside of the train prompts the Kid to follow the wife and discover the torn baby picture on the floor near an open exterior door.
When Donnelly and the husband return to the passenger car, the Kid casually informs the husband that his wife has jumped off the train. The husband suspects a sick joke, but Donnelly notices blood on the window and hits the emergency stop. A policeman questions Donnelly and the Kid, and he thinks he recognizes the Kid from somewhere. As the train rolls on, the policeman sees the Kid waving goodbye and orders another officer to relay a message to “tell the boys to get the guns out.”
The Kid teases Donnelly about his gloomy mood and reveals that his mother was murdered the previous night. Donnelly, in turn, tells him that his wife has just died as well, and he breaks down in tears. He admits that he has ceased to believe in God after all that day, a confession that takes the Kid by surprise. When the Kid asks if Donnelly would like to hear a story about a cow with trapped wind, Donnelly agrees, and the Kid delivers a bizarre, almost unbelievable tale that makes Donnelly laugh despite the heaviness.
As the train nears Donnelly’s stop, the two part on amicable terms. Yet armed policemen crowd the platform, and Donnelly realizes that the Kid is responsible for the matricide the doctor mentioned. The Kid produces two revolvers and opens fire on the police. He is fatally wounded by return fire, and Donnelly crawls to the Kid in his final moments, hearing the regret that he didn’t even hit a single policeman. Donnelly pockets one of the Kid’s six-shooters, concealing it in his coat.
Back home, Donnelly checks the gun and finds two bullets left. He contemplates suicide, but a scratching sound draws him to David, the rabbit. He tells the rabbit that he, too, will be joining soon, then shoots the animal’s head, a grim ritual that mirrors his own despair. He lowers the gun, which discharges the last bullet. He surveys the smoking gun, the dead rabbit, and a picture of his wife. He sighs, looks skyward, and mutters with a weary, exhausted bitterness:
> Oh Jesus. What a fuckin' day!
