Short story #1 [random I know]

in #story6 years ago (edited)

Maya Kamaga was thinking about Pata Robinson again. Pata was an intuitive writer with sloppy eyes and brown toes.

Maya walked over to the window and reflected on her beautiful surroundings. She had always loved pretty Turkmenistan with its curly, creepy cabbages. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel stable.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an intuitive figure of Pata Robinson.

Maya gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a noble, delightful, brandy drinker with chubby eyes and blonde toes. Her friends saw her as a barbecued, broad banker. Once, she had even helped a breakable baby flamingo recover from a flying accident.

But not even a noble person who had once helped a breakable baby flamingo recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Pata had in store today.

The drizzle rained like singing elephants, making Maya ambivalent. Maya grabbed a minuscule ruler that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Maya stepped outside and Pata came closer, she could see the chilly glint in her eye.

Pata gazed with the affection of 2635 optimistic glorious gerbils. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want marry."

Maya looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the minuscule ruler. "Pata, I want to make love to you," she replied.

They looked at each other with happy feelings, like two bored, brief blue bottles hopping at a very clumsy Valentine's meal, which had piano music playing in the background and two smelly uncles jogging to the beat.

Maya regarded Pata's sloppy eyes and brown toes. "I feel the same way!" revealed Maya with a delighted grin.

Pata looked shocked, her emotions blushing like a puny, poised piano.

Then Pata came inside for a nice glass of brandy.

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