Plot Generator Stories

Two Hopeful Uncles Singing to the Beat

A Short Storyby Alister Grey

Heather looked at the solid blade in her hands and felt sparkly.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her flower's surroundings. She had always hated dark Gandi with its quaint, quickest quarries. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sparkly.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Potter Lewis. Potter was a snotty hero with hairy fingers and grubby moles.

Heather gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a tactless, proud, wine drinker with chubby fingers and handsome moles. Her friends saw her as a vacant, vain vicar. Once, she had even saved a barbecued puppy that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a tactless person who had once saved a barbecued puppy that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Potter had in store today.

The clouds danced like sitting frogs, making Heather sleepy.

As Heather stepped outside and Potter came closer, she could see the valid glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want Lillith's ring," Potter bellowed, in a cowardly tone. She slammed her fist against Heather's chest, with the force of 5487 gerbils. "I friggin love you, Heather."

Heather looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the solid blade. "Potter, flip you," she replied.

They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two tasteless, talented tortoises boating at a very clumsy accident, which had indie music playing in the background and two hopeful uncles singing to the beat.

Heather regarded Potter's hairy fingers and grubby moles. She held out her hand. "Let's not fight," she whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Potter.

"Please?" begged Heather with puppy dog eyes.

Potter looked ambivalent, her body blushing like a grisly, grim guillotine.

Then Potter came inside for a nice glass of wine.

THE END