The city seemed to produce a particular beat that day unlike any other. A beat that one could bop their head to then hum the catchy tune. The kind of tune that would be stuck in your head the whole day. That was exactly what was coming out of the loud speakers hidden in the bushes of the shopping mall. The reflections of every passerby glimmered on the display windows only to quickly vanish as soon as they walked away. Even the palm trees swayed to the music as a light breeze pulled at the hair of women. The city was bustling, as usual; children were playing, adults were talking and working, elders feeding the birds.
This hit, that ice cold
Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold
This one for them hood girls
Them good girls straight masterpieces
It was a smooth rhythm, kind of bouncy, perhaps someone older would call it “groovy”. But he wasn’t very old, in appearance that is. Sure, he was a country, that made him old, but he was stylish despite the fact. He stopped at one of the display windows, looking himself over. He contemplated his looks for a moment. His hands in his jet black tight jean pockets, his light pink polo shirt with a pocket near the upper right chest and the collar pulled way up, his black oval-shaped shades, his blonde bob hair combed and neat. He looked good. This caused him to grin and wink at his reflection.
Stylin', whilen, livin' it up in the city
Got Chucks on with Saint Laurent
Got kiss myself, I'm so pretty
He continued walking down the brick paved road, winking at every other women and making a clicking sound to get their attention, then making a gun with his hands and saying “Bang!” To get their attention.
I'm too hot (hot damn)
Called a police and a fireman
I'm too hot (hot damn)
Make a dragon wanna retire man.
You were on the other side of the shopping mall, impatiently waiting for your date; why was he taking so long? Why were you even waiting? You yawned and stretched, out of the corner of your eye you saw him. He was walking to some non-existent beat; but somehow it hypnotized you. He did look good. You smiled and waited for him to come to your side.
“Hey Poland” you waved eagerly, your voice raising in a flirty tone. He paused and looked down at you, “Girl hit your hallelujah.” He winked, leaving you absolutely dumbstruck. What in the world did that mean? You decided to blow that off and walk with him, “So Poland”, you started but were quickly interrupted by his ridiculous singing, “Come on, dance, jump on it. If you sexy then flaunt it. If you freaky then own it. Don't brag about it, come show me.” He peered at you from under his shade.
He grabbed your hands and dipped you, his glasses fell to the floor. Hi beautiful sea green eyes hypnotizing and teasing you. “Come on pretty lady”, he smirked then moved his mouth toward your ear and whispered in it. He has finally stopped singing, this caused relief for you knew he was embarrassing himself. But as soon as he closed in on your ear you froze. “A pretty lady like you should be mine.”
By now he had drawn a crowd of onlookers; some were routing for him screaming, “Come on” and “Kiss the girl already”. Others weren’t too sure as to what was going on. But, like a gentleman (or something along those lines) he obeyed the shouting crowd and lifted your chin up to meet his eyes. “Come on pretty lady” he moved in closer, “Just one kiss”. Before you had time to comply you found his lips on yours. You also found yourself kissing back.
This had to have been a dream, right? The crowd was cheering wildly, but all you could here was white noise and his voice. “Hey pretty lady.” He pulled away much to your dismay and set you back down on your feet. “How about you be mine, forever.” He sat down upon one knee and held a small black felt box in his hand. You knew what this meant. Was this his plan all along? Was he acting so ridiculous to get your attention? To make this special? To make you smile? Whatever the reason, you were smiling and you knew that absolutely nothing could make you lose that smile.