Not All Is As It Seems

It’s a lovely late afternoon, so I jump off the Met at Victoria to walk the rest of the route home. The sun is low and warming. Deansgate is swarming with commuters and shoppers making the most of the light. Battling with myself not to have a pint at every pub passed, I amble my way through, discreetly checking the office totty as I do. And out of the grey and blue comes black, a single black man wearing tribal lederhosen, bulging black thighs and biceps bursting out of all shorts, gleaming against tanned suede. He wears a tipped trilby and carries a white rabbit along the length of a forearm, the rabbit wears a harness attached to a red leather leash. The heavens open with a heavy suprise shower and the man's transparent umbrella erupts from his other forearm instantaneously. There is no interruption to the stride of his silver boots, and not one of the suits has an umbrella.