Post by Scott Steel on Oct 21, 2021 17:34:05 GMT -5
The purple and orange glow of dawn came over the horizon as the early siren of mockingbird song danced upon the machine roar of public transit.
At the center, was a park.
Curiously familiar.
Grass wet with dew.
The concrete across the street curiously cracked continually in a large rectangle. One could almost imagine the outline of one of those city busses, if you squinted just right, in the right light.
In fact, one could almost see the high watermark of a different era, splashed garishly, invisibly across the breakwater of a building.
The lights?
Not on.
The Door?
Chained and padlocked.
Moving down the street, an empty office, papers piled high, “Private Detective” crossed out crudely, “Lawyer at Law” written in bad sharpie, but also askew at an angle previously not considered by Euclid in his explorations of the triangle.
The window left eternally cracked, allowed the wind to come through, rustling the still low slung blinds, knocking dust off of stacks of paper, sending small paperlanches earthbound from high pulped peaks.
Small furry critters not native to the park scurry this way and that.
Most curious of all, is the Bison, the previous property of the zoo, chewing the cud on the green near a gazebo that is cleaner than in the past.
click
click
click
The tap of “fancy” wingtip shoes that appear at best to be from a rental store.
A business suit straight out of the Great Gatsby.
A yellow mask, with a monocle on the mask, with a wispy twirly mustache. In his hands, a twirling cane. On the top of the cane was a logo.
Similar, yet legally distinct to the bitcoin logo.
He whistled as he careered slowly down the street. He assumed he was in a musical or some other such thing, throwing in skips and offtime hops.
He flipped a coin into the hands of a man sitting on a park bench.
“Hey, I’m not homeless, asshole!”
He ignored the comment, heard what he wanted, and doffed an invisible hat to him, continuing on his journey. Passing the entrance of the park, he looked in. The Ox made eye contact with him. Knowing. Mildly accusing, scurrying over its back was the most stacked opossum in history.
He chortled broadly and warmly to himself, jauntily jogging just along the sidewalk. He swung around a light pole, with all the grace of a greased penguin attempting to take flight, barely landing on his feet, the head of his cane throwing a Suzuki level elbow to his jaw.
This happened in front of the former law office, which had previously been the concern of a brother shamus.
It was at this time a strong hand came under his elbow. A Japanese man wearing a crisp business suit of tan helped him to his feet, he was also masked.
After helping the monocled masked man up, he brushed the detritus off of him as well. After a tasteful Picard maneuver both men continued down the street, they stopped and inspected the bus-shaped cracks, the monocled man rubbed his chin consideringly.
“Ah yes, much power.”
The second masked man spoke in a strong Japanese accent, his English polite sounding and crisp, just like his suit.
They arrive in front of the large building, the stouter Japanese man pulling some paperwork from his jacket.
The monocled man looked through the documents. The masked Japanese man handed him a key.
Inserted into the lock, it clicked open, and then promptly fell to the ground in a clatter.
Both men pulled open the double door spilling light across dust, a ring unused, and offices familiar but distant.
As the doors opened, the same possum who was riding the Bison earlier came scurrying between four legs, shrieking as it’s home was being returned.
The two men stepped in backlit against the morning. The monocled man dropped his cane and rubbed his hands together.
“Yes.”
A smile formed under the mask.
“Yes. This will do nicely!”
His assistant(?) nodded eagerly, as they stepped aside and the thunder of a buffalo charging through the open doors led the charge of other small furry creatures came scurrying back in. Last of all was a Racoon who stoled the smiling man’s cane and made a high tail towards the offices.
“Everything is going to be as it should be!”
At the center, was a park.
Curiously familiar.
Grass wet with dew.
The concrete across the street curiously cracked continually in a large rectangle. One could almost imagine the outline of one of those city busses, if you squinted just right, in the right light.
In fact, one could almost see the high watermark of a different era, splashed garishly, invisibly across the breakwater of a building.
The lights?
Not on.
The Door?
Chained and padlocked.
Moving down the street, an empty office, papers piled high, “Private Detective” crossed out crudely, “Lawyer at Law” written in bad sharpie, but also askew at an angle previously not considered by Euclid in his explorations of the triangle.
The window left eternally cracked, allowed the wind to come through, rustling the still low slung blinds, knocking dust off of stacks of paper, sending small paperlanches earthbound from high pulped peaks.
Small furry critters not native to the park scurry this way and that.
Most curious of all, is the Bison, the previous property of the zoo, chewing the cud on the green near a gazebo that is cleaner than in the past.
click
click
click
The tap of “fancy” wingtip shoes that appear at best to be from a rental store.
A business suit straight out of the Great Gatsby.
A yellow mask, with a monocle on the mask, with a wispy twirly mustache. In his hands, a twirling cane. On the top of the cane was a logo.
Similar, yet legally distinct to the bitcoin logo.
He whistled as he careered slowly down the street. He assumed he was in a musical or some other such thing, throwing in skips and offtime hops.
He flipped a coin into the hands of a man sitting on a park bench.
“Hey, I’m not homeless, asshole!”
He ignored the comment, heard what he wanted, and doffed an invisible hat to him, continuing on his journey. Passing the entrance of the park, he looked in. The Ox made eye contact with him. Knowing. Mildly accusing, scurrying over its back was the most stacked opossum in history.
He chortled broadly and warmly to himself, jauntily jogging just along the sidewalk. He swung around a light pole, with all the grace of a greased penguin attempting to take flight, barely landing on his feet, the head of his cane throwing a Suzuki level elbow to his jaw.
This happened in front of the former law office, which had previously been the concern of a brother shamus.
It was at this time a strong hand came under his elbow. A Japanese man wearing a crisp business suit of tan helped him to his feet, he was also masked.
After helping the monocled masked man up, he brushed the detritus off of him as well. After a tasteful Picard maneuver both men continued down the street, they stopped and inspected the bus-shaped cracks, the monocled man rubbed his chin consideringly.
“Ah yes, much power.”
The second masked man spoke in a strong Japanese accent, his English polite sounding and crisp, just like his suit.
They arrive in front of the large building, the stouter Japanese man pulling some paperwork from his jacket.
The monocled man looked through the documents. The masked Japanese man handed him a key.
Inserted into the lock, it clicked open, and then promptly fell to the ground in a clatter.
Both men pulled open the double door spilling light across dust, a ring unused, and offices familiar but distant.
As the doors opened, the same possum who was riding the Bison earlier came scurrying between four legs, shrieking as it’s home was being returned.
The two men stepped in backlit against the morning. The monocled man dropped his cane and rubbed his hands together.
“Yes.”
A smile formed under the mask.
“Yes. This will do nicely!”
His assistant(?) nodded eagerly, as they stepped aside and the thunder of a buffalo charging through the open doors led the charge of other small furry creatures came scurrying back in. Last of all was a Racoon who stoled the smiling man’s cane and made a high tail towards the offices.
“Everything is going to be as it should be!”
