Some stories start out sputtering and going nowhere and then die the death; and no one sees a thing...
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An untouched melancholic beverage that lived above an art gallery had a roommate called Will who was whiter than white and played an air guitar with a string missing.
Similarly, there was a broomstick cat pressed out of broken English that liked to purr from its favourite spot on top of the stove that had stolen Indians hiding in the basement.
Thirty cents to the dollar waiting in the wings had an excuse for everything and had ants in his pocket for treacle with no other name and so was called Wing walker in the blackberries, and never shined his shoes.
Portentously as a girl living in the subway the blue bird of dreams was on a whisper and couldn’t be found any other way but head or tails of a dime and so was not at home half the time. The other half was not getting was not getting any younger with the marinated culture looking over its shoulder and giving directions at the drop of a hat, but an adventure was an adventure and so pressed on to see what would come of it all.
Ninety five cents had a ringing in his ears that was not making any sense so when he bumped into the whisper counting change in a shop doorway he asked for a probable outcome and was rewarded with a large smile that came all the way from Balaclavia in the rain but didn’t speak French, but did speak Apache with a French accent.
When the Indians hiding in the basement heard of this they fired up their ponies to make hay and found a fond remembrance to spur them on.
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But largely unlikely with a spear had a better idea and dropped out of high school to find a sponsor to bring it to fruition, and coming across the Indians was inspired to find that they too were on a mission and so he joined them but lagged far behind for lack of a horse.
Spare change was haranguing thirty cents to the dollar for a note for a cup of tea or coffee and would have been satisfied with a Japanese Yen if he could have got one.
When the Indians pounded past on their emergency quest the two bits of change ran after them whooping to get a good view of whatever was going on.
Longing for a new name brought along his harpsichord and was intent on charging a dollar a throw but could only get ten cents a go and so settled for that.
A big noise made the introductions and that went well so the event got off to a good start. And then fire crackers were let off, a postcard was delivered, a Frenchy came along to interpret, the Indians rode around in circles and a partridge sang from the trees.
And then the cavalry with horns blaring came along and like a damp squib spoiled it all by chasing the Indians back to the reservation leaving everyone else nonplussed for a time of milling around and then they all went home.
This seems to be the way of it these days in the city that when more than a few people get together for an impromptu party the bogey men come along and break it up, which might make you wonder what the bogey men are so afraid of.
And out in a field of grass a seat waited for no one....
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