The Tiny Torch

A Short Story
by Bump
Virginia Bond had always loved deprived Sidney with its fast, fierce fields. It was a
place where she felt surprised.
She was a spiteful, considerate, tea drinker with chubby eyes and ginger toenails.
Her friends saw her as a queasy, quirky queen. Once, she had even made a cup of
tea for an impossible baby bird. That's the sort of woman he was.
Virginia walked over to the window and reflected on her snooty surroundings. The
moon shone like loving monkeys.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Chris Rabbit. Chris was a violent hero with hairy eyes and curvaceous toenails.
Virginia gulped. She was not prepared for Chris.
As Virginia stepped outside and Chris came closer, she could see the sore glint in
his eye.
"I am here because I want love," Chris bellowed, in a lovable tone. He slammed his
fist against Virginia's chest, with the force of 7502 giraffes. "I frigging love you,
Virginia Bond."
Virginia looked back, even more stressed and still fingering the tiny torch. "Chris, I
love you," she replied.
They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two harsh, hushed hamsters
rampaging at a very modest rave, which had flute music playing in the background
and two brutal uncles shouting to the beat.
Suddenly, Chris lunged forward and tried to punch Virginia in the face. Quickly,
Virginia grabbed the tiny torch and brought it down on Chris's skull.
Chris's hairy eyes trembled and his curvaceous toenails wobbled. He looked
ambivalent, his body raw like a tricky, tiny teapot.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later
Chris Rabbit was dead.
Virginia Bond went back inside and made herself a nice cup of tea.
THE END