There was a crisp cleansing breeze the sparrows leaped in front of me, stared, puffed, stared, flew, stalled, puffed and flew off again. The tiny bastards are quite edgy if you ask me. It was a beautiful evening, the shadows of 5 o' clock sun and all that. Every shadow sang its own tune with every brush of wind and every shift in sun. The pebbles shrieky grind made me bounce onto the turf where the vibrations of every other dirty human foot. "Ah fuck a beetle", skipped and stood still. This is tedious. The beetle crawled took a right from the left of my foot and snuggled. These VW's are so expensive to maintain.
Sparrow again.
The grass crunched, the wind blew below a sweet elderly man's bed sheet spreading it almost evenly on the green grass and pop came out his Asian girl friend from behind the bushes, a pop! yes, but i think she tripped on her heel. There was an uncomfortable stumble. She smiled sheepishly to show her teeth, all white - an elephant tusk washed with bleach, firm tits and a toned bodice. A prize, I say. I stood in awe, smitten by the fact that it was not a white old fool but an Indian bloke who wore a polo shirt and khaki pants, oh! white too.
Mrs. Khanna whizzed by me, with swift strides and wonky tonk walk.
Fat Mary(a guy) and Clarisse seemed to be walking towards me with conviction. There heads slanted to the right and quick brisk strides with Their straight hair deciding the fate of their hair styles. I smiled, they starred in awkwardness "the same guy with the same t-shirt" I wanted to stand infront of them and slap their south eastern heads straight. Fat Mary's head was surely remoulded to the right due to excessive fornicating with Fredrick fucking him from behind, on his fours, his right face cheek perched against a pink pillow. I wonder if Clarisse gets the same treatment or doomed due to his gayness. She did not stare.
But the fucking sparrow did a "freeze" on me again.
And there they were, the stereotypical old man Asian syndrome. His tits were just as alive, that 80 year old man had the swagger of a hip-hop artist on some serious pain killers. He swayed, she got bumped, sailed back, and slid her hand into his wrinkly experienced hands. this bump and slide continued for a while.
It's a wonder how conscious people are when looked at, some people seem to loose there balance when scrutinized. We inflict this and hate it at the same time.
And Mrs. Khanna sped past me again, with her sun glasses off, her hair tied back and a leap. “She is beating my hollow, i should follow her and chase her bum.”
Damn that sparrow.
