Leaping, Jumping and Vaulting

Every day was a challenging day for the legless man (his chances at two-leggedness were middling to nil) as he dreamed about bounding and leaping, jumping and vaulting, skipping and jigging, hopping on one leg than the other, hurdling and springing like a Whirling Dervish on PCP. A waif of a boy with boyish hair and a boyish smile ferreted this way and that, legs jimmying and fritting about, his poor mamma trailing behind him, her skirts bluffing and pillowing. ‘…that’ll be quite enough’ she hollered, ‘...stop that ferreting and fritting about!’ The waifish boy with the boyish smile smiled at his mother, a toothsome baby-teeth smile, and fritted backwards down the sideways, his poor mamma hollering after him. ‘… jig-jiggery and PCP, goodness me’ thought the legless man.

A jelly-jam hawker with a salad-bowl haircut fell clacking to the asphalt, ‘…he’s having a rum fit!’ hollered a woman with a tuba clenched between her knees. ‘…strike up the band …a one a two a three…’ ‘…I’m hungry’ whimpered a child, a teething-ring on a piece of string gibbeting her neck. ‘I want a loaf of three-day-old bread’ said a man with a Pegler camera. ‘…hell, I’d settle for a four-day-old one’ said a man missing an ear. The hunger-line shifted to the left, and with it the sky above. ‘Oh fiddlesticks’ cursed a woman, ‘…I have an appointment with my pedicurist in an hour...’. ‘…shove over’ yipped the woman with the tuba clenched between her knees ‘I need room to play’.