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"Lovely day for it, Mr. Suzuki!"
A wave from my hand, and I bid him the same. He scurries off somewhere, with a frying pan in his hand.
"Lovely day for it, Mr. Suzuki!"
Another one with a roller pin, spouting the same song I heard before. And so I reciprocate likewise — as the previous gentleman from before.
"Better off I go, cheerio~!"
He then tarries off to a grimy alley, the same path as the man with the frying pan did…
…
…
…
I popped a Joy open. Everything is okay…
So I continued on into my little stroll, violin case right by my side. Rainbow roads coloured my eyes, with cherry hues painting the sky. Owing to peculiarities alike, I took a gander at what it's like within my grasp: On my left — an empty box of a cherry-flavoured pill.
Neato~ Though I wished grapes were in one's custody instead…
Nevertheless, I digress… The Opera House is where I must be, a recital shan't be missed from yours truly.
Mom's coming here. She booked a ferry for Wellington Wells to see me, after all…
A downer I shall not be. The Bobbies would jauntily cudgel me… if they mistook me to be one, that is.
So I gazed up to heavens above; merriment in heart for that's what I seek.
"You got this… I can do this…"
A mantra I repeat ever so truly. Then I veered back my marbles — onto the righteous path, as a buzzing cacophony had taken my notice.
Uncle Jack's playing now, 'Wakey, Wakey' on the telly. Ten o'clock in the morning, The Wellies are up for the–
"-Lovely day for it, Mr. Suzuki."
A bobby, towering over behind me.
I looked back in a blitz, only to be met with his Cheshire grin instead.
"You'd best be off your way, good sir. Word on the street is: a wastrel's on the loose."
A wastrel? Here, in the Parade District of all places? My countenance contorted in a peculiar manner, giving leeway for The Bobby to guess what I had pondered.
"Nothing to be worried about, Mr. Suzuki. We have it all under control…"
Without further adieu, I took his word and took my leave, leaving behind The Bobby to deal with the pestilence.
Yet, as soon as I turned to another street right by the corner, I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief in a wink of such clarity…
…
…
…
Those bloody smiles…
I never liked them, to begin with.
Even so, I must press on. Down the lane and into another, I passed by many who conformed like no other.
A man ran past me, his face bared to the world — Only his spectacles, along with a frightening look.
Regardless, it isn't my concern to bother. To the Opera House, I must go.
A recital awaits.
Nothing could go wrong.
Nothing would ever go wrong.
Life's a breeze, and everything is okay.
…
…For It's a joy…
To be among We Happy Few.