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The Rain that Hammered like Cooking Humming birds

A Short Story

by Jane Doe

Chantal Wilson looked at the crumpled gun in her hands and felt
relaxed.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her chilly

surroundings. She had always loved sunny London with its empty,
easy estuaries. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel
relaxed.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was

the figure of Graham Parker. Graham was a cowardly ogre with fluffy
lips and slimy warts.

Chantal gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a

hilarious, helpful, whiskey drinker with scrawny lips and slimy warts.
Her friends saw her as a poor, perfect painter. Once, she had even
helped a brave toddler cross the road.

But not even a hilarious person who had once helped a brave toddler
cross the road, was prepared for what Graham had in store today.

The rain hammered like cooking humming birds, making Chantal

shocked.

As Chantal stepped outside and Graham came closer, she could see
the spitezabbling smile on his face.

Graham gazed with the affection of 4425 intelligent alive aardvarks.

He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want some more Twitter
followers."

Chantal looked back, even more shocked and still fingering the
crumpled gun. "Graham, let's move in together," she replied.

They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two mammoth,
mangled maggots swimming at a very bold Halloween party, which
had flute music playing in the background and two daring uncles
eating to the beat.

Chantal regarded Graham's fluffy lips and slimy warts. "I feel the same
way!" revealed Chantal with a delighted grin.

Graham looked shocked, his emotions blushing like a perfect, proud

piano.

Then Graham came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END

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