The Cursed Newspaper

A Short Story
by Random Writer

Barry Parker had always loved backward Cardiff with its tense, troubled tunnels. It was a place where he
felt irritable.

He was a sympathetic, intuitive, cocoa drinker with ruddy thighs and ruddy elbows. His friends saw him
as a drab, dark do gooder. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a few blind person. That's
the sort of man he was.

Barry walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. The snow flurried like
shouting aardvarks.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Laura Godfrey. Laura
was a wild do gooder with hairy thighs and fat elbows.

Barry gulped. He was not prepared for Laura.

As Barry stepped outside and Laura came closer, he could see the unnatural glint in her eye.

Laura gazed with the affection of 4484 admirable kindhearted koalas. She said, in hushed tones, "I love
you and I want love."

Barry looked back, even more lonely and still fingering the cursed newspaper. "Laura, eat my shorts," he
replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two friendly, frail flamingos walking at a very cute
wake, which had trance music playing in the background and two cold-blooded uncles gyrating to the
beat.

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

Laura's hairy thighs trembled and her fat elbows wobbled. She looked sleepy, her emotions raw like a
tan, teeny-tiny torch.

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

Barry Parker went back inside and made himself a nice mug of cocoa.

THE END