The Stripy Knife

A Short Story
by Jane Doe
Polly Chen was thinking about Heather Sparkle again. Heather was an adorable
teacher with ruddy elbows and sticky eyebrows.

Polly walked over to the window and reflected on her industrial surroundings. She
had always loved industrial Madrid with its broad, beautiful beaches. It was a
place that encouraged her tendency to feel shocked.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an adorable
figure of Heather Sparkle.

Polly gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a sinister, malicious,
port drinker with ugly elbows and scrawny eyebrows. Her friends saw her as an
anxious, ancient author. Once, she had even brought a hushed deaf person back from
the brink of death.

But not even a sinister person who had once brought a hushed deaf person back from
the brink of death, was prepared for what Heather had in store today.

The sun shone like chatting aardvarks, making Polly angry. Polly grabbed a stripy
knife that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Polly stepped outside and Heather came closer, she could see the black smile on
her face.

"Look Polly," growled Heather, with a cowardly glare that reminded Polly of
adorable koalas. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me
2123 gold pieces."

Polly looked back, even more angry and still fingering the stripy knife. "Heather,
yabba Dabba Doo," she replied.

They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two adventurous, annoying
aardvarks boating at a very generous dinner party, which had classical music
playing in the background and two peculiar uncles partying to the beat.

Suddenly, Heather lunged forward and tried to punch Polly in the face. Quickly,
Polly grabbed the stripy knife and brought it down on Heather's skull.

Heather's ruddy elbows trembled and her sticky eyebrows wobbled. She looked
puzzled, her wallet raw like a green, graceful gun.

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

Polly Chen went back inside and made herself a nice glass of port.

THE END