Giving Jeff Butterscotch

3 1 6
                                    

A Short Story

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Jeff Butterscotch looked at the stripy record in his hands and felt sad.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. He had always loved deserted Amsterdam with its tender, troubled trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sad.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Bob Parkes. Bob was a bold ogre with dirty fingers and tall eyebrows.

Jeff gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a giving, admirable, wine drinker with charming fingers and short eyebrows. His friends saw him as a large, low lover. Once, he had even rescued a breakable baby flamingo from a burning building.

But not even a giving person who had once rescued a breakable baby flamingo from a burning building, was prepared for what Bob had in store today.

The hail pounded like eating flamingos, making Jeff barmy.

As Jeff stepped outside and Bob came closer, he could see the hurt glint in his eye.

"Look Jeff," growled Bob, with a brave glare that reminded Jeff of bold kittens. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want a Wi-Fi code. You owe me 9360 euros."

Jeff looked back, even more barmy and still fingering the stripy record. "Bob, I am your mother," he replied.

They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two gloopy, grotesque giraffes chatting at a very special Halloween party, which had piano music playing in the background and two predatory uncles chatting to the beat.

Suddenly, Bob lunged forward and tried to punch Jeff in the face. Quickly, Jeff grabbed the stripy record and brought it down on Bob's skull.

Bob's dirty fingers trembled and his tall eyebrows wobbled. He looked lonely, his wallet raw like a salty, shallow sandwich.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Bob Parkes was dead.

Jeff Butterscotch went back inside and made himself a nice glass of wine.

THE END

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