Two Kind Uncles Dancing to the Beat

A Short Story
by Mr Pseudonym

Michelle Superhalk was thinking about Annie Wilson again. Annie was
a helpful patient with slimy eyes and dirty eyebrows.

Michelle walked over to the window and reflected on her old-fashioned

surroundings. She had always loved cosy West Boggins with its
ordinary, obedient oceans. It was a place that encouraged her tendency
to feel anxious.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a
helpful figure of Annie Wilson.

Michelle gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a caring,
delightful, squash drinker with brunette eyes and feathery eyebrows. Her
friends saw her as a vacant, vast vicar. Once, she had even jumped into a
river and saved an early baby.

But not even a caring person who had once jumped into a river and
saved an early baby, was prepared for what Annie had in store today.

The sleet rained like chatting horses, making Michelle worried. Michelle
grabbed a tattered hat that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with
her fingers.

As Michelle stepped outside and Annie came closer, she could see the
shiny glint in her eye.

Annie gazed with the affection of 5494 hopeful faint foxes. She said, in
hushed tones, "I love you and I want affection."

Michelle looked back, even more worried and still fingering the tattered
hat. "Annie, I don't have the money," she replied.

They looked at each other with puzzled feelings, like two modern, mute
maggots skipping at a very predatory holiday, which had reggae music
playing in the background and two kind uncles dancing to the beat.

Suddenly, Annie lunged forward and tried to punch Michelle in the face.
Quickly, Michelle grabbed the tattered hat and brought it down on
Annie's skull.

Annie's slimy eyes trembled and her dirty eyebrows wobbled. She
looked stressed, her emotions raw like a proud, precious piano.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground.
Moments later Annie Wilson was dead.

Michelle Superhalk went back inside and made herself a nice beaker of
squash.

THE END

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Auto Praise for Two Kind Uncles Dancing to the Beat
"I feel like I know Michelle Superhalk. In a way, it feels as though I've
always known her."
- The Daily Tale
"About as enjoyable as being hailed on whilst taking in washing that has
been targeted by seagulls with the squits."
- Enid Kibbler
"Saying the sleet rained like chatting horses is just the kind of literary
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- Hit the Spoof
"I could do better."
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