A Drop of Drama

Trotting past the flower stall, I scaled the cast-iron leg of an outdoor cafe table to inspect the midday scenery. Right beside a tall glass beaded with icy condensation lay a paper straw wrapper, scrunched down into a tight, wrinkled accordion. Ordinary folk discard such treasures without a second thought—criminal neglect of raw drama! Leaning against the cold glass, I scooped a glistening bead of moisture onto my curved plastic claw and dabbed it squarely upon the paper's snout. *Sip-WRIGGLE!* The dry paper drank the drop and snapped awake, uncoiling across the dark wood grain in sudden, writhing spasms like a startled serpent! Magnificent street magic!