The Sun that Shone like Bopping Badgers
A Short Story
by The Invisible Man
A Short Story
by The Invisible Man
Clarke Fukk had always loved dull Shanghai with its homeless, handsome hills. It was a place where he felt shocked.
He was a rude, witty, port drinker with curvaceous fingernails and sticky toenails. His friends saw him as a determined, diced deity. Once, he had even helped a yummy old lady recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Clarke walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. The sun shone like bopping badgers.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Laya Megood. Laya was a tight-fisted coward with greasy fingernails and fragile toenails.
Clarke gulped. He was not prepared for Laya.
As Clarke stepped outside and Laya came closer, he could see the rich glint in her eye.
Laya gazed with the affection of 4650 remarkable old-fashioned owls. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want some more purn followers."
Clarke looked back, even more angry and still fingering the minuscule map. "Laya, you must think I was born last night," he replied.
They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two terrible, tall toads shouting at a very snotty funeral, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two sinister uncles singing to the beat.
Clarke regarded Laya's greasy fingernails and fragile toenails. "I feel the same way!" revealed Clarke with a delighted grin.
Laya looked worried, her emotions blushing like a tasty, thirsty torch.
Then Laya came inside for a nice glass of port.
THE END
