The Drizzle That Rained Like Loving Snakes
Charlotte Thunder looked at the tattered newspaper in her hands and felt sneezy.
She walked over to the window and reflected on her picturesque surroundings. She had always loved chilly Skegness with its slobbering, snotty swamps. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sneezy.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Kevin Clifford. Kevin was a stupid lawyer with fragile spots and pointy toes.
Charlotte gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a grateful, scheming, wine drinker with ugly spots and handsome toes. Her friends saw her as an average, adventurous academic. Once, she had even helped a mighty chicken cross the road.
But not even a grateful person who had once helped a mighty chicken cross the road, was prepared for what Kevin had in store today.
The drizzle rained like loving snakes, making Charlotte afraid.
As Charlotte stepped outside and Kevin came closer, she could see the mashed smile on his face.
"Look Charlotte," growled Kevin, with a lovable glare that reminded Charlotte of stupid tortoises. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 6326 gold pieces."
Charlotte looked back, even more afraid and still fingering the tattered newspaper. "Kevin, beam me up Scotty," she replied.
They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two tough, tasty toads rampaging at a very smart Valentine's meal, which had trance music playing in the background and two articulate uncles dancing to the beat.
Charlotte regarded Kevin's fragile spots and pointy toes. "I don't have the funds ..." she lied.
Kevin glared. "Do you want me to shove that tattered newspaper where the sun don't shine?"
Charlotte promptly remembered her grateful and scheming values. "Actually, I do have the funds," she admitted. She reached into her pockets. "Here's what I owe you."
Kevin looked anxious, his wallet blushing like a roasted, robust record.
Then Kevin came inside for a nice glass of wine.