RE: Post making contest
11-18-2016, 04:42 AM
The Sun that Shone like Walking Maggots
A Short Story
by THE RULES
Darth Ramsbottom looked at the damp rock in his hands and felt shocked.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his deprived surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned New York with its cuddly, colorful cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel shocked.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mavis Pigeon. Mavis was an admirable teacher with greasy lips and ginger arms.
Darth gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bold, scheming, beer drinker with grubby lips and greasy arms. His friends saw him as a wonky, wicked writer. Once, he had even revived a dying, deaf person.
But not even a bold person who had once revived a dying, deaf person, was prepared for what Mavis had in store today.
The sun shone like walking maggots, making Darth ecstatic.
As Darth stepped outside and Mavis came closer, he could see the condemned glint in her eye.
Mavis gazed with the affection of 7275 vile blushing blue bottles. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a pencil."
Darth looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the damp rock. "Mavis, I am your father," he replied.
They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two knowing, knobbly kittens thinking at a very spiteful Halloween party, which had classical music playing in the background and two admirable uncles jogging to the beat.
Darth regarded Mavis's greasy lips and ginger arms. "I feel the same way!" revealed Darth with a delighted grin.
Mavis looked afraid, her emotions blushing like a grieving, gifted guillotine.
Then Mavis came inside for a nice drink of beer.
THE END
A Short Story
by THE RULES
Darth Ramsbottom looked at the damp rock in his hands and felt shocked.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his deprived surroundings. He had always loved old-fashioned New York with its cuddly, colorful cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel shocked.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mavis Pigeon. Mavis was an admirable teacher with greasy lips and ginger arms.
Darth gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a bold, scheming, beer drinker with grubby lips and greasy arms. His friends saw him as a wonky, wicked writer. Once, he had even revived a dying, deaf person.
But not even a bold person who had once revived a dying, deaf person, was prepared for what Mavis had in store today.
The sun shone like walking maggots, making Darth ecstatic.
As Darth stepped outside and Mavis came closer, he could see the condemned glint in her eye.
Mavis gazed with the affection of 7275 vile blushing blue bottles. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a pencil."
Darth looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the damp rock. "Mavis, I am your father," he replied.
They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two knowing, knobbly kittens thinking at a very spiteful Halloween party, which had classical music playing in the background and two admirable uncles jogging to the beat.
Darth regarded Mavis's greasy lips and ginger arms. "I feel the same way!" revealed Darth with a delighted grin.
Mavis looked afraid, her emotions blushing like a grieving, gifted guillotine.
Then Mavis came inside for a nice drink of beer.
THE END