The Streets of London (At Night)

It's London. At night. With all the smog and streetlights you'd expect, the happiest little shit you could imagine leisurely skipped down the sidewalk, pushing by random civilians as needed. How did he get to London? Who the fuck cares? After turning down a dark alley, he helped himself to a stray cat picking through trash, using her for a dance partner as he sang a non-copyrighted soundalike version of one of Queen's songs. The poor feline scratched and yowled, but to no avail. The wounds simply healed and he simply sang louder.

Once he had finished, he kissed the animal on the nose and dropped it, the poor creature sprinting out of the alley as fast as possible. He kicked a trashcan, easily crumpling it with his evil foot strength. Dancing his way through the narrow space, he felt filled with an unnatural amount of energy that recreational movement just couldn't release. It was time for a fight. But who could he fight? Who? Who would it be? Maybe someone can answer that question for him. Anyone?