Pretty San Francisco

A Short Story

by Mr Pseudonym

Tommy Grey looked at the ripped teapot in his hands and felt worried.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. He had always loved pretty San
Francisco with its frail, fierce fields. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel worried.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jenny Ball. Jenny was a
grateful animal with scrawny eyebrows and blonde moles.

Tommy gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an understanding, down to earth, tea drinker
with chubby eyebrows and brunette moles. His friends saw him as a dead, defeated do gooder. Once, he
had even jumped into a river and saved a fancy baby bird.

But not even an understanding person who had once jumped into a river and saved a fancy baby bird,
was prepared for what Jenny had in store today.

The hail pounded like eating gerbils, making Tommy calm.

As Tommy stepped outside and Jenny came closer, he could see the poised glint in her eye.

Jenny gazed with the affection of 4821 forgetful decaying donkeys. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you
and I want a pencil."

Tommy looked back, even more calm and still fingering the ripped teapot. "Jenny, beam me up Scotty,"
he replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two mute, mouldy maggots gyrating at a very
hilarious carol service, which had classical music playing in the background and two greedy uncles
thinking to the beat.

Tommy studied Jenny's scrawny eyebrows and blonde moles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm
sorry," began Tommy in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't
love you Jenny."

Jenny looked afraid, her emotions raw like a knobbly, klutzy kettle.
Tommy could actually hear Jenny's emotions shatter into 155 pieces. Then the grateful animal hurried
away into the distance.

Not even a cup of tea would calm Tommy's nerves tonight.

THE END