Short stories

Cosy Paris

Michelle Lakeman had always loved cozy Paris with its breakable, brainy beaches. It was a place where she felt afraid.

She was a witty, proud, brandy drinker with scrawny eyelashes and spiky fingers. Her friends saw her as a breakable, brainy brute. Once, she had even helped a nervous deaf person cross the road. That's the sort of woman he was.

Michelle walked over to the window and reflected on her deserted surroundings. The sleet rained like eating ostriches.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather, someone. It was the figure of Alex Doop. Alex was an adorable doctor with solid eyelashes and charming fingers.

Michelle gulped. She wasn't prepared for Alex.

As Michelle stepped outside and Alex came closer, she could see the lonely glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want a phone number," Alex bellowed, in a rude tone. He slammed his fist against Michelle's chest with the force of 3208 toads. "I frigging love you, Michelle Lakeman."

Michelle looked back, even more, delighted and still fingering the weathered sausage. "Alex, Is that real leather," she replied.

They looked at each other with puzzled feelings, like two fierce, fantastic frogs gyrating at a very peculiar birthday party, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two hopeful uncles jogging to the beat.

Suddenly, Alex lunged forward and tried to punch Michelle in the face. Quickly, Michelle grabbed the weathered sausage and brought it down on Alex's skull.

Alex's solid eyelashes trembled and, his charming fingers wobbled. He looked irritable, his body raw like a tasteless, thirsty teapot.

Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later, Alex Doop was dead.

Michelle Lakeman went back inside and made herself a nice glass of brandy.

THE END