a low boom ruptures the serenity of bird song and gentle rustling of the wind through leaves. the ears of my cat prick beside me. i oblige as a lavender-filled breeze wisps past me. sifting slightly, my feet pick up a second vibration. two booms? three? what is this curiosity?
the now-syncronizing booms suddenly shift direction and form a rumbling not unlike that of a very distant, very huge, and very hungry bear. the low growling invisibly making its way through the landscape in a direction towards cat and me,and i stretch my neck to the side in full alarm. cats head is now fully perked and aiming in an undecided series of directions. closer still it draws, clearly bringing mayhem upon its sure-to-be hideous wing.
around the corner of 9th and P. Street bounds a snarling mass of peeling paint and scrap metal, supposedly fashioned to look like a domestic. grinding the protesting asphalt, it heaves and chokes on a cloud of its own noxious disposal, continually burping out a vaguely rhythmic cacophany of anguish and pain. oh this, poor creature! another good serious of belching and it could very easily finish its rattling-apart.
cat and i look on at this display much like one would look on at a carwreck, a train-derailment, or a public breakup. the creature rumbles past, unable to take notice of the world around for deafness and coordination troubles. nearly veering into another (better behaved) creature, it releases a spectacular eruction and instead causes the other car to cry.
the offender is gone swifter than its entrance, leaving behind nothing but the whimpering and crying of an unsuspecting neighborhood.
the now-syncronizing booms suddenly shift direction and form a rumbling not unlike that of a very distant, very huge, and very hungry bear. the low growling invisibly making its way through the landscape in a direction towards cat and me,and i stretch my neck to the side in full alarm. cats head is now fully perked and aiming in an undecided series of directions. closer still it draws, clearly bringing mayhem upon its sure-to-be hideous wing.
around the corner of 9th and P. Street bounds a snarling mass of peeling paint and scrap metal, supposedly fashioned to look like a domestic. grinding the protesting asphalt, it heaves and chokes on a cloud of its own noxious disposal, continually burping out a vaguely rhythmic cacophany of anguish and pain. oh this, poor creature! another good serious of belching and it could very easily finish its rattling-apart.
cat and i look on at this display much like one would look on at a carwreck, a train-derailment, or a public breakup. the creature rumbles past, unable to take notice of the world around for deafness and coordination troubles. nearly veering into another (better behaved) creature, it releases a spectacular eruction and instead causes the other car to cry.
the offender is gone swifter than its entrance, leaving behind nothing but the whimpering and crying of an unsuspecting neighborhood.