A Short Story

The Damp Teapot

John Barlow looked at the damp teapot in his hands and felt angry.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always loved crowded Truro with its large, late lakes. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Suki Torrance. Suki was a snooty vicar with curvaceous ankles and squat toenails.

John gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a scheming, arrogant, whiskey drinker with dirty ankles and scrawny toenails. His friends saw him as a damaged, diced deity. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a dirty kitten.

But not even a scheming person who had once made a cup of tea for a dirty kitten, was prepared for what Suki had in store today.

The clouds danced like shouting aardvarks, making John ambivalent.

As John stepped outside and Suki came closer, he could see the alive smile on her face.

"Look John," growled Suki, with a creepy glare that reminded John of snooty donkeys. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 1711 dollars."

John looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the damp teapot. "Suki, I'm in love with you," he replied.

They looked at each other with sneezy feelings, like two hurt, huge horses laughing at a very grateful carol service, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two down to earth uncles cooking to the beat.

John regarded Suki's curvaceous ankles and squat toenails. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.

Suki glared. "Do you want me to shove that damp teapot where the sun don't shine?"

John promptly remembered his scheming and arrogant values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you."

Suki looked healthy, her wallet blushing like a gentle, grotesque guillotine.

Then Suki came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END