songbird
Wow! What a transformation! The ceiling was no longer multi shades of grey, the wallpaper that had been dripping from the walls was covered and painted, the floor was tiled in various shades of terracotta, and the counters had been moved forward, painted and tiled in a distinctly Grecian manner. The place smelt clean and fresh. Long plaits of garlic swung from the corner of the room and freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies the size of your palm jostled for room in a spacious jar beside a a huge home-made yoghurt cake. The metal appliances shone, sparkled and glistened in the spotlit interior. Outside the shop, a small bubble achine chattered and groaned its way through an entire bottle of dishwashing detergent, releasing a torrent of muti-coloured spheres haphazardly into the wind, bouncing and floating across the road, into peoples' faces and up, up towards the airbus which was steadily making its landing approach.
'[What kind of stunt do you call that?" shrieked my mother. Standing on the top step, arms akimbo, a lurid picture of canary yellow, purple and orange, she was livid. I slunk backwards until I could feel the rough bark of the pine tree in the corner of the backyard. I wished the spaceship of my dreams would spirit me away into infinity so that I wouldn't have to deal with this. She was really scary the first coffee of the day and I had started early. I couldn't see a way out of this dilemma.