Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Muddy Puddles

The favourite activity of the little girl's favourite cartoon pig was jumping up and down in muddy puddles.

The cartoon pig lived on a hill somewhere in the English countryside.

The little girl lived in one of Paris's grimier neighbourhoods.

The puddle lived outside the New Morning Jazz club. 

The puddle was composed of many things.  

The little girl was wearing little pink sneakers and little black pants and little grey socks with tiny flowers sewn in them.

The little girl was wearing the week's piss and spit and cigarette butt and ash and perhaps some sewerage and probably some old coffee and a few old chips up her little black pants. Not to mention the centuries-old grime and plague and dead ants and spew and grease and rat fur and beer funk.

The little girl was delighted.

The little girl's face crumbled upon perceiving the shock of the passers by.

The little girl's eyes spilled over as her mother rushed to pull her out saying 'I'm so sorry darling, but you mustn't jump in puddles! Puddles aren't always puddles.'

The little girl tried to understand.  

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