He seems so detached with his head on a pole, yet Whiteman found the world to be a glorious place. Well most of the time. He came to hate the pigeons that would make his helmet a resting place. The deposits they left would not be accepted by the bank and this truly annoyed him.
Whiteman had not started out life as a head on a pole. He had spent many years with a group of close knit friends in a display window at Suttons Hat & Tie Palace on Koening Ave. That was back in the days when gentlemen dressed in their finest all the time. Sadly for Whiteman all his friends had gone the way of the dress hat.
Through some twist of fate, be it cruel or not, the choice is yours, Whiteman had been saved from the pile of heads that his friends had been dumped in. For many years Whiteman sat alone and sad in the empty, dusty and spiderweb filled window of his former employer. Through his eyes he saw his once lovely view of the Koening Ave. descend into a street of crime and grime.
This was something his friends had talked about, for many of them had traveled from distant lands before they came to Suttons.
2 comments:
Wonderful writing and a super metaphor.
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