Sid Stands on Sidewalks

Sid stood outside the club flicking a lighter on and off again, over and over. The flame danced in the slight breeze.  Sid liked to see the fire move back and forth. Inside the club, the sounds of rebellion rang from wall to wall and pulsed outside. Sid liked the beat, the smell of cheap cigarettes flowing from the building, and of course the people.  The people were amazing.

Sid stood by a row of plastic newspaper stands. Each newspaper addressed some sort of local news topic; the music scene, the art scene, the food scene. Sid didn’t care about any of it, but he looked tough and cool standing by them with the street lamp overhead as he took long, slow drag off his cigarette and conjured fire at the same time.  No one would mess with him, he knew, and passers-by would envy him and him alone. This was Sid’s block. This was Sid’s time.

The final notes of the show inside came an end. The crowd chanted for an encore, but this was a punk show and the act wasn’t about to be told what to do.  Slowly the crowd trickled out of the building, away from their moment of escape and community and into the darkness. Into Sid’s block.

Sid finished a smoke and tossed it to the ground with no regard for the environmental impact. He smirked and walked up to a group of the concert goers.

“Hi folks, I hope you had a very pleasant evening with The Punches to the Nose, one of my favorites for sure. Are any of you looking for a cheaper auto-boat-house-and-life insurance policy? Here’s my card, call me in the morning and let’s really rock out a new policy, okay? Great. Thanks! Have a great rest of your evening!” Sid said, handing over business cards.

Sid smirked. He knew there was nothing cooler than being adequately insured at a reasonable premium.

 

 

Thanks for reading!

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