Two Friendly Uncles Loving to the Beat
--A Short Story--
Boris Pigeon had always loved picturesque Philadelphia with its deafening, dirty ditches. It was a place where he felt calm.
He was a patient, hopeful, tea drinker with beautiful lips and charming legs. His friends saw him as a kooky, kaleidoscopic knight. Once, he had even revived a dying, baby bird. That's the sort of man he was.
Boris walked over to the window and reflected on his sleepy surroundings. The rain hammered like partying pigeons.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Phillip Meadows. Phillip was a courageous writer with blonde lips and tall legs.
Boris gulped. He was not prepared for Phillip.
As Boris stepped outside and Phillip came closer, he could see the poised smile on his face.
Phillip glared with all the wrath of 3624 admirable fat frogs. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want love."
Boris looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the peculiar sandwich. "Phillip, let's get married," he replied.
They looked at each other with puzzled feelings, like two hurt, handsome hamsters shouting at a very grateful wedding, which had piano music playing in the background and two friendly uncles loving to the beat.
Boris studied Phillip's blonde lips and tall legs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Boris in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't hate you Phillip."
Phillip looked lonely, his emotions raw like a resonant, robust rock.
Boris could actually hear Phillip's emotions shatter into 8137 pieces. Then the courageous writer hurried away into the distance.
Not even a cup of tea would calm Boris's nerves tonight.
THE END
