He accompanied "C" to the Peter Pan bus terminal, passing clouds of that amazing white vapor. A light rain blew against them. The dark night towered overhead with metallic solidity. Neither day nor night in Springfield allowed a person a shred of fantasy... This was a completely materialistic city. Bright neon lights lay across the wet side walk like some rich noblewomen who has fallen down drunk. Vigor and decrepitude seemed splashed all over the city, like a can of fresh orange juice poured out on the muddy streets of Springfield... He couldn't imagine why "C" loved Springfield at night.
