At the termination of a solar cycle pervaded by compensated labour, I make the commitment to walk through a public area containing generic flora and, periodically, flighted fauna. My recreational walks have become progressively more atypical as I edge to dotage. Mayhap the underlying culprit for this trend has been my observed increase in economic output. If this hypothesis were to reflect the facts, this would be hapless, as this increase in output has been a requisite for maintaining a stable position in the middle class. I suppress these thoughts, and anchor my mental focal point upon the exterior world. Oh, I… must promulgate the origin of my idiosyncratic vernacular. Given the archaic audience I present my soliloquy to, I presume you are oft-times grasping at your dictionary! A persistent pesterance I assure you, but an immutable one. But such are the circumstances when the trademarkers gain control.
My mental focus attempts to advance back to the exterior, this time with success. The bark bearing flora dominates much of my visual input span. I arch my spine to further inspect the microgameteophytes burrowed in the corolla of the flora. How seldom do I see such strong colours in a non-lurid setting here in such a banal metropolis.
It's… beautiful.1
…
…
What could the origin of that audible thumping be?
…
Some distance away, noises approach me.
"Ne'er do well has entered visual input, accelerating perambulation!"
The authorit - oh, fuck it. The cops2 are on my trail3. I make a break4 out of the park5. I know the streets6 well enough to lose them7 there, but I happen to be in the dead centre of the park. As my pure adrenaline fueled8 flight response takes full charge with my legs, my encyclopeadic9 mind goes haywire.
Public area not park. Authorities not cops. Perambulate rapidly not make a break. Leave visual inpu- -
I push the thoughts out10. I look behind11 me to see a speedy posse the size of a street parade on my tail. They have the agility to catch up with me if I don't lose this lot quickly, but they don't have the smarts12 to cut me off13. The streets are in sight. If I wind from Carlen to Traste to Kroile, I'll have los…
Woah.
I… there's a prick14 on my neck… Since when did give tranqs to.. All this for one fucking…
Please. Don't take me. The fines will ruin…