Two Brave Uncles Smiling to the Beat

Chris and Alison

Chris Sparkle looked at the bendy map in his hands and felt barmy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his rural surroundings. He had always hated snooty San Francisco with its red, rich rivers. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel barmy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Alison Rockatansky. Alison was a hungry writer with sticky fingers and wobbly legs.

Chris gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a vile, considerate, vinegar drinker with slimy fingers and red legs. His friends saw him as a delightful, difficult doctor. Once, he had even saved a hot wild Tom that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a vile person who had once saved a hot wild Tom that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Alison had in store today.

The snow flurried like singing ostriches, making Chris sad.

As Chris stepped outside and Alison came closer, he could see the colorful glint in her eye.

"Look Chris," growled Alison, with a tactless glare that reminded Chris of hungry maggots. "I hate you and I want some more Roblox friends. You owe me 2804 dollars."

Chris looked back, even more sad and still fingering the bendy map. "Alison, yOU ARE A PLEB," he replied.

They looked at each other with calm feelings, like two grisly, grubby goldfish hopping at a very witty wedding, which had jazz music playing in the background and two brave uncles smiling to the beat.

Chris regarded Alison's sticky fingers and wobbly legs. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.

Alison glared. "Do you want me to shove that bendy map where the sun don't shine?"

Chris promptly remembered his vile and considerate values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you."

Alison looked angry, her wallet blushing like a sad, shredded sausage.

Then Alison came inside for a nice drink of vinegar.

THE END