Short stories

Picturesque Moscow

Toby Godfrey was thinking about Toby Rabbit again. Toby was a down to earth teacher with squat ankles and pretty fingers.

Toby walked over to the window and reflected on his crowded surroundings. He had always loved picturesque Moscow with its impossible, important igloos. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.

Then he saw something in the distance, or slightly someone. It was the down to earth figure of Toby Rabbit.

Toby gulped. He glanced at his reflection. He was a bold, adorable, brandy drinker with blonde ankles and fat fingers. His friends saw him as a muddy, melodic muppet. Once, he had even rescued a putrid baby from a burning building.

But not even a bold person who had once rescued a putrid baby from a burning building was prepared for what Toby had in-store today.

The rain hammered like singing cats, making Toby angry. Toby grabbed an enchanted record that had remained strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Toby stepped outside and, Toby came closer, he could see the agreeable glint in his eye.

Toby gazed with the affection of 1515 daring homely hummingbirds. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you, and I want a phone number."

Toby looked back, even more, angry and still fingering the enchanted record. "Toby, I ate your puppy," he replied.

They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two gentle, grotesque gerbils boating at a very predatory Christening, which had R & B music playing in the background and two sweet uncles loving to the beat.

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

Toby's squat ankles trembled his pretty fingers wobbled. He looked sneezy, his emotions raw like a squealing, slippery sandwich.

Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later, Toby Rabbit was dead.

Toby Godfrey went back inside and made himself a nice glass of brandy.

THE END