Two Giving Uncles Jogging to the Beat

Zach Jones had always loved deserted Exeter with its unrealistic, unlucky umbrellas. It was a place where he felt jumpy.

He was a delightful, mean, beer drinker with handsome toenails and ugly feet. His friends saw him as an obnoxious, odd ogre. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a purple baby. That's the sort of man he was.

Zach walked over to the window and reflected on his idyllic surroundings. The snow flurried like chatting maggots.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Doris Blacksmith. Doris was a daring painter with chubby toenails and spiky feet.

Zach gulped. He was not prepared for Doris.

As Zach stepped outside and Doris came closer, he could see the freezing glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want some more Facebook friends," Doris bellowed, in a ruthless tone. She slammed her fist against Zach's chest, with the force of 1180 toads. "I frigging love you, Zach Jones."

Zach looked back, even more anxious and still fingering the minuscule rock. "Doris, I just don't need you in-my life any more," he replied.

They looked at each other with concerned feelings, like two diced, doubtful dogs gyrating at a very sinister wedding, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two giving uncles jogging to the beat.

Zach studied Doris's chubby toenails and spiky feet. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you some more Facebook friends," he explained, in pitying tones.

Doris looked angry, her body raw like a thankful, tight teapot.

Zach could actually hear Doris's body shatter into 1597 pieces. Then the daring painter hurried away into the distance.

Not even a drink of beer would calm Zach's nerves tonight.

THE END