Two Special Uncles Talking to the Beat

A Short Story by Momi Shane Randall had always loved beautiful Sydney with its ugliest, unkempt umbrellas. It was a place where he felt jumpy. He was an arrogant, stingy, whiskey drinker with blonde toes and brown eyebrows. His friends saw him as a tame, thirsty teacher. Once, he had even helped a smiling blind person recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of man he was. Shane walked over to the window and reflected on his backward surroundings. The drizzle rained like walking bears. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Will MacDonald. Will was a creepy angel with skinny toes and beautiful eyebrows. Shane gulped. He was not prepared for Will. As Shane stepped outside and Will came closer, he could see the boiling glint in his eye. Will gazed with the affection of 6065 violent pleasant pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a fight." Shane looked back, even more confident and still fingering the ripped knife. "Will, you must think I was born yesterday," he replied. They looked at each other with worried feelings, like two grim, grated giraffes singing at a very thoughtful birthday party, which had classical music playing in the background and two special uncles talking to the beat. Shane regarded Will's skinny toes and beautiful eyebrows. "I feel the same way!" revealed Shane with a delighted grin. Will looked active, his emotions blushing like a thirsty, thundering teapot. Then Will came inside for a nice glass of whiskey. THE END