Brave Richard Sweet

It was always known that death is imminent.

Richard Sweet had always loved idyllic West Boggins with

its relieved, raw rivers. It was a place where he felt cross.

He was a brave, optimistic, tea drinker with dirty hands and

skinny abs. His friends saw him as a brawny, blue brute.
Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a cool old man.
That's the sort of man he was.

Richard walked over to the window and reflected on his

industrial surroundings. The sleet rained like talking puppies.

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

was the figure of Shane Vader. Shane was a peculiar
monster with fat hands and wobbly abs.

Richard gulped. He was not prepared for Shane.

As Richard stepped outside and Shane came closer, he

could see the adventurous glint in his eye.

Shane gazed with the affection of 8371 thoughtful mouldy

monkeys. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want
some more Facebook friends."

Richard looked back, even more ambivalent and still

fingering the spotty rock. "Shane, I am your mother," he
replied.

They looked at each other with fuzzy feelings, like two

cautious, chubby cats laughing at a very hungry disco, which
had flute music playing in the background and two sinister
uncles boating to the beat.
Suddenly, Shane lunged forward and tried to punch Richard
in the face. Quickly, Richard grabbed the spotty rock and
brought it down on Shane's skull.

Shane's fat hands trembled and his wobbly abs wobbled. He

looked puzzled, his emotions raw like a glamorous, grisly
guillotine.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the

ground. Moments later Shane Vader was dead.

Richard Sweet went back inside and made himself a nice

cup of tea.

THE END