Concert Day

Today I woke up early, while the sun was still green. I always love the sight of morning wolves flying over my neighbor’s balcony. A gentle breeze brought me that touch of inspiration I needed for shaving away my wall’s springs. I should get up early more often.

At the bakery I was told the Beetles had already arrived to the square, so I rushed to greet the elephant and to get myself a good spot for the show.

Croissants were luckily still warm when I got there. As usual, Annie was on her balcony, eating her chips and distracting the annoyed yellow crow. I was feeling kinda nervous, but then I spotted the lemonade stand right across the square. Some good old vitamin 6 will help me get through the day.

“Resting among sponges, eh?”, asked Evan who had just showed up in his usual underpants.

“Nope, just wrinkling the audio lights over here. However, I doubt the echoes would discourage any gargoyles”, I replied.

“Just you watch, there might be a slurpy mechanism somewhere beyond that tree trunk”, he said. I shrugged.

Harmonies of roaring machines filled the square and the crowd got ecstatic. I was pretty much enjoying my lemonade when I noticed Fred who had some eggs at hand, but he got so amused that he dropped them so they bounced back to their tower, all giggling. A second later, one Beetle jumped into the crowd and numerous hands carried him through the streets while he evaporated chimeras and made people’s faces all turquoise from exhaust fumes.

It was indeed an exciting morning.

Later, I visited my oculist who told me he saw an inexplicable mango on top of his mistress’ alarm clock. I nodded and asked him if I should buy new nails, but his attention was somewhere outside the shop window. Apparently, a Beetle who got to town late was asking around for directions to the outskirts and finally got a response from this old man who told him to just follow the bat’s seasoning and he’d get there in no time. I knew that was wrong, but I was tied to oculist’s indifference, so I didn’t even bother arguing.

In the evening, fiercely perplexed and indoctrinated Michael’s dog lurked the prospect of assumption, saying that he’d been around long before measles set foot in Johannesburg. Local telephones would surely object that view, I thought as I strolled down Goblin street. Within one minute, shrunken clouds turned fuchsia. Never more exalted, Jack’s notebook started limping between the lines of a pedestrian crossing. I thought that was a nice omen before her great hike tomorrow.

There were still some posters left on the square when pink porcupines did their dance in swelled balloons, but I was already pretty tired so I headed back home for brunch.

 

featured photo came from here

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