The Snow That Flurried Like Boating Mice

Stupid Stories #1

Mike Blackman was thinking about Annabelle Cockle again. Annabelle was a down to earth vicar with dirty legs and slimy warts.

Mike walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted surroundings. He had always loved snooty Sidney with its relieved, repulsive rivers. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel delighted.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the down to earth figure of Annabelle Cockle.

Mike gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a remarkable, giving, brandy drinker with grubby legs and ugly warts. His friends saw him as a loud, lonely lawyer. Once, he had even helped a misty blind person cross the road.

But not even a remarkable person who had once helped a misty blind person cross the road was prepared for what Annabelle had in store today.

The snow flurried like boating mice, making Mike concerned. Mike grabbed a peculiar banana that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Mike stepped outside and Annabelle came closer, he could see the creepy glint in her eye.

"Look, Mike," growled Annabelle, with a selfish glare that reminded Mike of down to earth horses. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want affection. You owe me 8262 gold pieces."

Mike looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the peculiar banana. "Annabelle, I just don't need you in my life anymore," he replied.

They looked at each other with worried feelings, like two boiled, barbecued blue bottles boating at a very cold-blooded carol service, which had reggae music playing in the background and two sweet uncles dancing to the beat.

Mike studied Annabelle's dirty legs and slimy warts. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Mike. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Annabelle. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Mike. "Now get your dirty legs out of here before I hit you with this peculiar banana."

Annabelle looked sparkly, her wallet raw like a magnificent, mangled map.

Mike could actually hear Annabelle's wallet shatter into 8262 pieces. Then the down to earth vicar hurried away into the distance.

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

THE END