A Short Story
by John Doe
Steve Torrance looked at the magic blade in his hands and felt sneezy.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his chilly surroundings. He had always loved noisy Cape Town with its thoughtless, thundering trees. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sneezy.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Charlotte Ramsbottom. Charlotte was a hungry academic with short moles and wobbly ankles.
Steve gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a proud, gentle, squash drinker with short moles and beautiful ankles. His friends saw him as a distinct, deafening doctor. Once, he had even saved a ripe old man that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a proud person who had once saved a ripe old man that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Charlotte had in store today.
The drizzle rained like thinking goldfish, making Steve unstable.
As Steve stepped outside and Charlotte came closer, he could see the rotten glint in her eye.
"Look Steve," growled Charlotte, with an incredible glare that reminded Steve of hungry giraffes. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want affection. You owe me 1192 gold pieces."
Steve looked back, even more unstable and still fingering the magic blade. "Charlotte, I admire your eyebrows," he replied.
They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two knotty, kind kittens talking at a very predatory wake, which had R & B music playing in the background and two mean uncles walking to the beat.
Steve regarded Charlotte's short moles and wobbly ankles. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.
Charlotte glared. "Do you want me to shove that magic blade where the sun don't shine?"
Steve promptly remembered his proud and gentle values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you."
Charlotte looked ecstatic, her wallet blushing like a kindhearted, kind kettle.
Then Charlotte came inside for a nice beaker of squash.
THE END