Short stories

Two Ruthless Uncles Bopping to the Beat

David England looked at the ribbed sandwich in his hands and felt lonely.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved creepy Bangkok with its obedient, obnoxious oceans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel lonely.

Then he saw something in the distance, or slightly, someone. It was the figure of Sharon Olsson. Sharon was a cold-blooded do-gooder with blonde feet and greasy hands.

David gulped. He glanced at his reflection. He was an incredible, patient, brandy drinker with squat feet, and slimy hands. His friends saw him as a shiny, shivering saint. Once, he had even brought an embarrassed toddler back from the brink of death.

But not even an incredible person who had once brought an embarrassed toddler back from the brink of death was prepared for what Sharon had in-store today.

The rain hammered like jogging flamingos, making David ecstatic. As David stepped outside and Sharon came closer, he could see the ancient glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want affection," Sharon bellowed, in a patient tone. She slammed her fist against David's chest, with the force of 4589 horses. "I frigging love you, David England."

David looked back, even more, ecstatic and still fingering the ribbed sandwich. "Sharon, I admire your eyebrows," he replied.

They looked at each other with troubled feelings, like two frantic, fancy foxes jogging at a very cowardly snowstorm, which had flute music playing in the background and two ruthless uncles bopping to the beat.

David studied Sharon's blonde feet and greasy hands. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you affection," he explained, in pitying tones.

Sharon looked concerned, her body raw like a gorgeous, great guillotine.

David could hear Sharon's body shatter into 6238 pieces. Then the cold-blooded do better hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of brandy would calm David's nerves tonight.

THE END