The Cursed Sandwich
A Short Story
by The Invisible Man

Heywood Jagoblowhim was thinking about Harry Dong again. Harry was a spiteful banker with chubby toes and curvy elbows.

Heywood walked over to the window and reflected on her sunny surroundings. She had always loved hilly Plymouth with its wicked, wandering waters. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel worried.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a spiteful figure of Harry Dong.

Heywood gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a proud, charming, port drinker with blonde toes and charming elbows. Her friends saw her as a large, light lawyer. Once, she had even helped a nice baby recover from a flying accident.

But not even a proud person who had once helped a nice baby recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Harry had in store today.

The rain hammered like laughing kittens, making Heywood angry. Heywood grabbed a cursed sandwich that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Heywood stepped outside and Harry came closer, she could see the yellowish glint in his eye.

"Look Heywood," growled Harry, with a special glare that reminded Heywood of spiteful snakes. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 6511 gold pieces."

Heywood looked back, even more angry and still fingering the cursed sandwich. "Harry, I am your brother," she replied.

They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two great, grotesque guppies swimming at a very sweet engagement party, which had R & B music playing in the background and two ruthless uncles sleeping to the beat.

Heywood studied Harry's chubby toes and curvy elbows. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Heywood. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Harry. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Heywood. "Now get your chubby toes out of here before I hit you with this cursed sandwich."

Harry looked irritable, his wallet raw like a testy, tasty teapot.

Heywood could actually hear Harry's wallet shatter into 6511 pieces. Then the spiteful banker hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of port would calm Heywood's nerves tonight.

THE END

Thanks for reading,
The Invisible Man
@theinvisibleman