Barftromble Snow that Flurried like Jogging Rabbits

Dan Blast looked at the squidgy guillotine in his hands and felt unstable.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. He had always loved chilly barftromble with its weak, wicked waters. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Christian Cockle. Christian was a violent teacher with slimy fingers and feathery ankles.

Dan gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a delightful, patient, squash drinker with scrawny fingers and solid ankles. His friends saw him as a victorious, vigilant volcano. Once, he had even revived a dying, old lady.

But not even a delightful person who had once revived a dying, old lady, was prepared for what Christian had in store today.

The snow flurried like jogging rabbits, making Dan sparkly.

As Dan stepped outside and Christian came closer, he could see the heavy glint in his eye.

“Look Dan,” growled Christian, with a deranged glare that reminded Dan of violent gerbils. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want justice. You owe me 8106 barftromble dollars.”

Dan looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the squidgy guillotine. “Christian, what’s up Doc,” he replied.

They looked at each other with active feelings, like two knobby, knotty koalas drinking at a very admirable barftrombles eve, which had barftromble jazz music playing in the background and two stable uncles rampaging to the beat.

Dan regarded Christian’s slimy fingers and feathery ankles. “I don’t have the funds …” he lied.

Christian glared. “Do you want me to shove that squidgy guillotine where the sun don’t shine?”

Dan promptly remembered his delightful and patient values. “Actually, I do have the funds,” he admitted. He reached into his pockets. “Here’s what I owe you.”

Christian looked cross, his wallet blushing like a raspy, robust record.

Then Christian came inside for a nice beaker of squash.

THE END

The Peculiar Sausage

Jenny Cockle looked at the peculiar sausage in her hands and felt sneezy.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her deprived surroundings. She had always loved magical Skegness with its poised, poor parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel sneezy.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Will Gloop. Will was a helpful wally with spiky thighs and grubby eyes.

Jenny gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a thoughtless, forgetful, whiskey drinker with curvy thighs and red eyes. Her friends saw her as a grim, good giant. Once, she had even helped a filthy toddler recover from a flying accident.

But not even a thoughtless person who had once helped a filthy toddler recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Will had in store today.

The hail pounded like bouncing hamsters, making Jenny calm.

As Jenny stepped outside and Will came closer, she could see the bitter glint in his eye.

“Look Jenny,” growled Will, with a stingy glare that reminded Jenny of helpful flamingos. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want a pencil. You owe me 206 euros.”

Jenny looked back, even more calm and still fingering the peculiar sausage. “Will, yabba Dabba Doo,” she replied.

They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two lively, large lizards shouting at a very controlling carol service, which had flute music playing in the background and two cowardly uncles running to the beat.

Suddenly, Will lunged forward and tried to punch Jenny in the face. Quickly, Jenny grabbed the peculiar sausage and brought it down on Will’s skull.

Will’s spiky thighs trembled and his grubby eyes wobbled. He looked cross, his wallet raw like a good, grim guillotine.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Will Gloop was dead.

Jenny Cockle went back inside and made herself a nice glass of whiskey.

The Tattered Teapot

by Bradford Hodgkins

Dolly Sparrow had always loved dirty Falmouth with its blue-eyed, bored beaches. It was a place where she felt happy.

She was a smelly, spiteful, tea drinker with vast feet and blonde ankles. Her friends saw her as a witty, worried writer. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a spotty baby flamingo. That’s the sort of woman he was.

Dolly walked over to the window and reflected on her beautiful surroundings. The hail pounded like eating monkeys.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ruth Thornton. Ruth was a kind lawyer with ugly feet and curvy ankles.

Dolly gulped. She was not prepared for Ruth.

As Dolly stepped outside and Ruth came closer, she could see the powerless glint in her eye.

Ruth gazed with the affection of 2907 giving thoughtless tortoises. She said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want some more Facebook friends.”

Dolly looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the tattered teapot. “Ruth, I am your father,” she replied.

They looked at each other with fuzzy feelings, like two manky, many maggots boating at a very understanding wedding, which had drum and bass music playing in the background and two down to earth uncles rampaging to the beat.

Dolly studied Ruth’s ugly feet and curvy ankles. Eventually, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Dolly in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Ruth.”

Ruth looked irritable, her emotions raw like a great, grieving gun.

Dolly could actually hear Ruth’s emotions shatter into 5275 pieces. Then the kind lawyer hurried away into the distance.

Not even a cup of tea would calm Dolly’s nerves tonight.

The Bendy Map

by Bradford Hodgkins

Ruth Smart looked at the bendy map in her hands and felt afraid.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her industrial surroundings. She had always hated wild Glasgow with its courageous, curved cliffs. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel afraid.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mildred Walker. Mildred was a gracious ogre with hairy eyebrows and tall arms.

Ruth gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a cowardly, generous, whiskey drinker with dirty eyebrows and brown arms. Her friends saw her as a loud, loose lover. Once, she had even brought a quaint blind person back from the brink of death.

But not even a cowardly person who had once brought a quaint blind person back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Mildred had in store today.

The sleet rained like laughing donkeys, making Ruth sneezy.

As Ruth stepped outside and Mildred came closer, she could see the orange glint in her eye.

“Look Ruth,” growled Mildred, with an optimistic glare that reminded Ruth of gracious dogs. “I hate you and I want Internet access. You owe me 4797 pounds.”

Ruth looked back, even more sneezy and still fingering the bendy map. “Mildred, I am your mother,” she replied.

They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two faithful, flabby foxes boating at a very mean Christening, which had death-reggae music playing in the background and two hungry uncles shouting to the beat.

Suddenly, Mildred lunged forward and tried to punch Ruth in the face. Quickly, Ruth grabbed the bendy map and brought it down on Mildred’s skull.

Mildred’s hairy eyebrows trembled and her tall arms wobbled. She looked jumpy, her wallet raw like a grim, grated gun.

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

Ruth Smart went back inside and made herself a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END

Kihlepa

Kihlepa facts

Kihlepa is a beautiful town in Estonia. It is situated in Pärnu County, which is one of 15 counties in the Northern European country of Estonia.

As of Jan 2011, Kihlepa has a population of 159 noble Estonians, and many more than that in pigs who may or may not be Estonian also.

Kihlepa lives at the coordinates 58°23′43″N 24°14′39″E. At least some of this wonderful town is 62 meters above sea-level by the last count, and its weather is windy.

It takes 28 hours to get to Kihlepa by car via the A2, and 441 hours by foot, which is a long way to walk, but probably worth it.

The language spoken here is Estonian, or pig. Do pigs speak in languages? I’m not sure. Dogs apparently bark in different dialects but dogs are not the same as pigs. There are trees and a cultural heritage monument to enjoy, if you like this sort of thing.

More about Kihlepa

Kihlepa is home to a wonderful dandelion festival that takes place every May possibly, as well as a pig farm that accommodates 2,800 pigs, or 5,600 half-pigs. Kihlepa’s pig farm is owned and operated by chief pig man OÜ Lõpe Agro and produces pigs for something called Rakvere Lihakombinaat. No one knows what this is.

People who live in Kihlepa are courteous, kind and often wear hats. They like sports very much but do not have any sports teams as the land is mostly dominated by the pigs. Kihlepa people love dandelions and will often pick them and keep them on the windowsill sighing in wonder, or in one of their many hats.

Kihlepa’s main exports are pigs, dandelions, hats, pigs and pigs wearing hats. Tourism in the town is absolutely rife with 6 places to stay in the village. Two of these are rated 9.1/10, or ‘wonderful’ and the others are also probably quite good as well. There is also business to be had in Kihlepa, but it is mostly pig-business.

Kihlepa has no army to speak of and remained neutral during the war.

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