The Golden Market

Stack dump { ggpiATISka }.

Bombay, Bombay, come in Bombay... "Eash! I need you to lubricate the bottom of my teflon pan with some grease from the gears of my favorite amusement park ride." Bombay...I'm sorry, what was that? I'm sorry. What? Oh. It's not Bombay anymore, they changed their city's name. Mumbai, come in Mumbai, oh. Hi. Listen I am going to make a quick omelette, I will be back before you can say ...
In the purple market on Ambedkar, golden light suffused the street. All the brown dirt being kicked up by those Age of Empire carts played perfect complement to the already complementary gold light piercing women's purple fabric. The color of the wood on the carts won the Sixth Man's award even though in some circles it placed as high as third (the point guard, for some).
But what stood out most at this ridiculous Hollywood set was the crime that had been committed down one the faux-alleys. It was dark enough there, obviously they couldn't afford that trashy commercial golden light for every square inch of the set. A man had been _______ and was bleeding from the neck. "Eash, where the fuck is my amusement park gear grease? Say, would ya look at that...looks like a river of highly oxygenated blood. These people."