Two Callous Uncles Singing to the Beat

A Short Story
by Jane Doe
Barry Ball was thinking about Jenna Smith again. Jenna was a modest brute with
solid lips and short elbows.

Barry walked over to the window and reflected on his dirty surroundings. He had
always loved crowded Liverpool with its kooky, knowledgeable kettles. It was a
place that encouraged his tendency to feel afraid.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a modest
figure of Jenna Smith.

Barry gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a loving, wild, squash
drinker with wide lips and squat elbows. His friends saw him as a disturbed, diced
do gooder. Once, he had even saved a spluttering kitten that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a loving person who had once saved a spluttering kitten that was stuck
in a drain, was prepared for what Jenna had in store today.

The drizzle rained like drinking aardvarks, making Barry active. Barry grabbed a
spotty newspaper that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Barry stepped outside and Jenna came closer, he could see the mutated smile on
her face.

"Look Barry," growled Jenna, with a delightful glare that reminded Barry of modest
lizards. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want affection. You owe me 2183
pounds."

Barry looked back, even more active and still fingering the spotty newspaper.
"Jenna, beam me up Scotty," he replied.

They looked at each other with calm feelings, like two creepy, cruel cats talking
at a very grateful carol service, which had reggae music playing in the background
and two callous uncles singing to the beat.

Suddenly, Jenna lunged forward and tried to punch Barry in the face. Quickly, Barry
grabbed the spotty newspaper and brought it down on Jenna's skull.

Jenna's solid lips trembled and her short elbows wobbled. She looked sleepy, her
wallet raw like a smiling, short sandwich.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later
Jenna Smith was dead.

Barry Ball went back inside and made himself a nice beaker of squash.

THE END