*The setting*
We are on a street in Southern California. There are crystal shops, dozens of people randomly complaining about why they left New York City, and Panera-style restaurants where you order at a counter and they give you a number and then they bring you your food. I love those places.
An older gentleman with a blurry face walks away as a man, Ryan Marie Gosling,* gears up to pay for his parking. A true man of the law, a man of my heart, a man who could drive into me any day.
Ryan stops for a moment and stares into the busy California street (traffic sucks there). He uses his brain, pouts a bit, and calculates. It's the math in his head. How long will he need to be here for? How long must he stay? The blurry old man is still there.
Ryan presses his supple hands into the parking meter. "Bee doop bee doop doop bee doop" (the sound a parking meter makes). The old man with the blurry head quivers.
"Bee doop bee doop doop bee doop doop bee doop doop bee doop doop bee doop doop bee doop." Oh yes.
It works.
Ryan begins to walk away. He delicately places his hand into his pocket. He raises his eyebrow, turns his torso, and gives a confused look. This dirty sidewalk is your runway, the parking meter your muse. This is a well-choreographed show, sweeties. Enjoy it.
The turn-age (like him turning his body to walk to his destination) is almost complete. The blurry old man in the photo is on the verge of collapsing.
Ryan leaves the scene, the old man faints, and the parking meter immediately breaks.
"That was hot," the parking meter thinks while the old blurry man is sprawled on the ground. "That was real hot."
