George T's English Journal

NOW
You watch as empty crisp packets brush the feet of the intoxicated. A constant flow of indistinct car fumes fill the air along with a murmur of unfamiliar foreign languages. A light drizzle gently falls on the mechanical monsters that surge through the wide streets with people weaving in and out of them. You walk east, towards the swamped train station, where the destitute man lay with his slender dog just hoping for that generous passer by. You look down and notice a trail of oil beside you and realise it’s falling from the polystyrene flip lid container you’re holding in your hand. You have a rummage around in your pocket to try and find a tissue to wipe the greasy liquid off your frosty hand but find yourself unlucky. You reluctantly decide to lick it off. Continuing your journey, you pass a rabble of bearded middle aged men leaving the pub discussing how their lives are so disatisfactory and how they could put the world to rights. As you proceed down the road, this behaviour becomes a bit of a pattern. Every now and then a man would come out thinking he was a professional analyser teaching his group of intrigued friends how he would control the 11 foreign, over paid players better than the current manager could. You proceed with your journey beginning to realise that the urban wildlife is starting to begin to show. A fox scampers out of an abandoned garage and nabs a half eaten chicken bone and begins to devour it. Pigeons, perched upon street lights, begin to bellow their different however very similar mating calls. Very soon, it gets to that time when sirens begin to burst into song. The piercing sound of them has a very similar feeling to the crimes and troubles they are attending to.

THEN
The morning after. Some stubborn on-going roisterers ploy there way down the once swamped high street now looking alien to there current surroundings. There seems to been something remotely odd about this morning. You sniff. For some strange reason the air that previously smelt of toxic car waste now has a distinct smell of freshly cut grass all thanks to the hunch backed old man that doesn’t even live near a patch of grass, but likes to keep himself busy.
Cars also appear to have transformed over night. These once demons of the night seem to have developed into angels of the day as they smoothly descend down the street gently, brushing any dead leaves or empty drink bottles aside. You notice the suns out after winning its battle with the clouds. Thankfully. It might have ruined the forlorn mans day. He looks a whole new man. He must have finally received some luck and got some decent money, to feed himself and his ravenous feline companion. The nocturnal city beasts begin there routine procedures and start going back in to hiding after hovering up all fallen rations. You see some familiar faces. The same troop of middle aged men are back. This time complaining about the referees decisions after watching them on a late night highlight show. You check your watch. 10:30. They enter the pub. Your attention now turns to the shops and there owners. Like their shops, the owners appearance have been dramatically altered due to the hard night they both had dealing with some hard and not so friendly customers. Colour of their outsides are just one of the many things these two allies have had changed. The look of them begins to make you feel a bit woozy, so you have a look around to see if there is anything going on to distract yourself. Your bus then arrives. You leave.