He walked down the jagged street, well done hair, slick sport jackets and tight fitting pants all wrapped up with Rolex and clean shins for posture. He was from the new age, looking like a racer from 2020 with pearly teeth and gunslinger boots, wire jaw lines and a clean shave. His aviators only reflected the bleak smile on your face as he handed you the fading ticket that fell from your old green jacket. He blew puffs of disinterest as the road showed signs of weakness, pot holes, scraped gravel, wet grass and pools of blue spit. The tag said “time is up” and how it was. He was going to buy the city on e-bay and then sell it for a bit more. Stopping in front of the tinted window, the dust was shaken off his shoulder to make him glow even harder in the deadest city. “This is Specific” he said to the person on the other side of the glass. His glasses leaned down so he could see in clearly. “You get Denim Wear and then we’ll go racing down the streets of Berlin” Right, Right, was the smile when his hands went under the glass to get the money he owed no-one and the spare keys he kept swirling on his longest finger. No pointing, just self fulfillment. Ra-ra-ra-ra, he’d hear when his heels scraped the pavement under the wheels of his car before streaming out of the dimly lit parking lot, with Marlboros and citrus tic tacs spewed on the dashboard.. And they all said only one thing about him, “You thought jesus had style, well fuck, you’ve not seen our Francoise”.
* * *
Kid Animation became the ball of the community, glass doors shut up, windows sporting signs of life and a rug stitched of flowers and yellow brick roads, Buttoned down wool jackets and curled hair, he sat with his tongue sticking out and a spearmint popsicle stuck to the table. Your eyes were never bright enough, his was blue as the kool AID stains on the cotton curtains that happened last year (no one would clean it, the caretaker was killed for being ugly). He was the challenge they all grew down to meet up too, cherry lips, cherry soap, the tag said “time is up” and meant that he was ready to sell himself on the internet for a million pretty bucks. His fingers climbed up the ladder painted on the wall to read the folder of pamphlets on geology and how to live like your 13 and ¾.”Come on, I want to go” he said to the one in duller colors beside him. His acquaintance and solemnly grateful member. “I’m out of ideas, and will fuck up whatever comes this way” When he clicked out in clean shoes, clean socks and rosy cheeks, curling his lips and separating the eyelashes that naturally stuck together he would count the people in the room with his eyes and pull down the fire alarm on his way out, and every time the security would rush in, and every time he’d blame it on the stupidest in the room. Smile now, he thought, as he saw himself on the window. With his trousers threading green buttons and hands smelling of peppermints he stood out in the sun, not squinting and pulling up the sleeves, so when he left the property they all only said one thing “you though Jesus had style, well fuck you’ve not seen our Christian” .
* * *
It was time for the world Revolution. It was their role in the world revolution. The world came down to this. So when they met, it got pretty fucking dirty.