It’s twilight, the special sort of twilight where the low slung Sun sits impotently in the sky like a paper tiger, it’s stellar rays still magnificent yet it lurks behind cityscapes sans the anger that earlier forced you to ‘low a jacket.
Down below, on street level are the most successful animals on the planet all about to go home after a hard day’s winning. Some have been shopping, some have been at work, some are on the way to drink in a pub to unwind before they go home, others to a show, to a funfair, to a private gallery exhibition premiere, to meditation, to speed-dating, to the gym, to self-defence class. Each of the animals busybody about until they have to negotiate a pelican crossing.
One man gets to the crossing first and presses the button. He likes the fresh click of the first press, the press that activates the red man on the interface above where his finger had pressed. Slowly but surely, the crossing fills up with people desperately wanting and capriciously needing to get to where they’ve got to get to. The animals hustle and bustle, bump and grind, elbow and winch themselves into perfect position ready to attack the gaps as their counterparts copy them across the way.
Traffic is sporadic. Sporadic enough that there are windows of opportunity for an illegal cross but busy enough to deter anyone attempting one. One animal does make a break for it, the other animals watching, collective breath completely still, watching him just make it to the other side. A car toots as he whizzes past.
The countdown starts and the panic, though still heightened, is muted for a few moments before they begin again.
Three.
Two.
One and the warring herds rush toward each other with a ferocity and intensity that could power cities. The two tribes hit each other and the lines melt, the demarcations between the two are gone, the frenzy commences. But ho! Wait! On closer inspection, the two tribes are not killing each other. It appears they’re making out in the street.
