"Un-fucking-believable," Phobos exclaimed. He pushed the perambulator as Ayumu held little Crathos in her arms and shushed and cooed at him. "Why the hell did we buy this fucking thing if all the brat ever does is wail like a wimp when he is put in there?" the choleric groused.
"Because," Ayumu emphasized, "Crathos is getting heavy. And I won't carry him for hours on end and hurt my back."
"Can't you make him stop? This is un-fucking-bearable," he grumbled. Ayumu sighed and rocked Crathos gently. But the baby only stopped crying when Ayumu placed him into his father's arms.
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Weekly Writing Exercises
General FictionEvery week a new writing exercise -- this is my ambition. Drabble, poem or short story, you will find everything here. The topics are variegated, you may even prompt me. And there are updates every week!
