Professor Pane

Professor Pane was a wild-eyed, frantic middle-aged man in a Purple velour smoking jacket, who at the moment, was running. Running desperately and with focus, from everything in his world. Running hard and fast, even as it all came down upon him like crumbling buildings in an earthquake.

It was 2:13. He was late!

He ran dangerously fast through the daily slow-moving traffic jam on 58th and Third, half muttering, half crying as he weaved through cars that were busy stopping and going and slamming on brakes and swearing and honking horns on a Thursday afternoon in midtown. But this Thursday was different. This was his day, and he'd gone and cocked it all up now--he was going to miss it!

His mind had now focused on a big dark-haired guy idling on a scooter in the middle of the lane, a guy that he'd now have to maneuver past at a dead run. He was coming up on the guy fast. No time to think, he jumped past him on the left, tumbled naturally into a surprisingly athletic somersault, and with a quick but violent crimping of metal sound going off somewhere in the back of his head and his moss green velvet tie spinning wildly about in the cold November air, Professor Pane rolled perfectly over the top of the beautiful Silver BMW and back onto the pavement, landing awkwardly but safely ahead of both the car and Mr. Motorscooter, who was now looking over at the owner of the beemer, who was opening his door and screaming at the Professor in some strange foreign accent, "you ma-tha-fa-ka! I keel you! I keel you, ma-tha-FA-ka!"

But there was no time to dawdle. They were all waiting! He took off again as fast as he could safely go, got to the sidewalk on the North side of the avenue, and just bolted from that point all the way to the Park, where, his panicked mind repeatedly reminded him all the way there, the ceremony had already begun!

(okay, I don't know where to go with this now, so here it will have to hang. Thanks for reading so far. Any thoughts or critiques? Keep 'em to yourself. Ha, just kidding.)