Post by Yamamoto Kenji on Jan 4, 2015 20:36:14 GMT -5
So, believe it or not I write short stories for a magazine. I figured I might as well share a few with you guys. I'll periodically post some in here, so keep an eye out! I don't do any of that actually, I'm just pulling these from a story generator for shits and giggles.
The Clouds that Danced like Eating Rats
A Short Story
Albert Clifford had always loved snooty Sydney with its mammoth, many mountains. It was a place where he felt calm.
He was a rude, peculiar, port drinker with solid abs and greasy ankles. His friends saw him as a wide-eyed, weak writer. Once, he had even helped a purring blind person recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Albert walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. The clouds danced like eating rats.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Gary Blast. Gary was an understanding brute with wide abs and beautiful ankles.
Albert gulped. He was not prepared for Gary.
As Albert stepped outside and Gary came closer, he could see the tight glint in his eye.
Gary gazed with the affection of 1645 rude hungry hamsters. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a wifi code."
Albert looked back, even more barmy and still fingering the ribbed hawk. "Gary, yabba Dabba Doo," he replied.
They looked at each other with unstable feelings, like two rotten, regurgitated rats hopping at a very popular funeral, which had piano music playing in the background and two remarkable uncles rampaging to the beat.
Albert regarded Gary's wide abs and beautiful ankles. "I feel the same way!" revealed Albert with a delighted grin.
Gary looked afraid, his emotions blushing like a teeny, thundering teapot.
Then Gary came inside for a nice glass of port.
THE END
The Clouds that Danced like Eating Rats
A Short Story
Albert Clifford had always loved snooty Sydney with its mammoth, many mountains. It was a place where he felt calm.
He was a rude, peculiar, port drinker with solid abs and greasy ankles. His friends saw him as a wide-eyed, weak writer. Once, he had even helped a purring blind person recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was.
Albert walked over to the window and reflected on his sunny surroundings. The clouds danced like eating rats.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Gary Blast. Gary was an understanding brute with wide abs and beautiful ankles.
Albert gulped. He was not prepared for Gary.
As Albert stepped outside and Gary came closer, he could see the tight glint in his eye.
Gary gazed with the affection of 1645 rude hungry hamsters. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a wifi code."
Albert looked back, even more barmy and still fingering the ribbed hawk. "Gary, yabba Dabba Doo," he replied.
They looked at each other with unstable feelings, like two rotten, regurgitated rats hopping at a very popular funeral, which had piano music playing in the background and two remarkable uncles rampaging to the beat.
Albert regarded Gary's wide abs and beautiful ankles. "I feel the same way!" revealed Albert with a delighted grin.
Gary looked afraid, his emotions blushing like a teeny, thundering teapot.
Then Gary came inside for a nice glass of port.
THE END
