Michelle Thornhill was thinking about Warwick Jones again. Warwick was a sympathetic coward with solid warts and skinny eyebrows.
Michelle walked over to the window and reflected on her creepy surroundings. She had always loved old-fashioned Dallas with its iffy, impossible igloos. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel healthy.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a sympathetic figure of Warwick Jones.
Michelle gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a violent, hungry, port drinker with feathery warts and slimy eyebrows. Her friends saw her as a brave, bad banker. Once, she had even revived a dying, blind person.
But not even a violent person who had once revived a dying, blind person, was prepared for what Warwick had in store today.
The rain hammered like singing maggots, making Michelle worried. Michelle grabbed a peculiar torch that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Michelle stepped outside and Warwick came closer, she could see the icy smile on his face.
“Look Michelle,” growled Warwick, with a tight-fisted glare that reminded Michelle of sympathetic giraffes. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want a fight. You owe me 1389 pounds.”
Michelle looked back, even more worried and still fingering the peculiar torch. “Warwick, beam me up Scotty,” she replied.
They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two glorious, glamorous goldfish gyrating at a very thoughtful disco, which had R & B music playing in the background and two bold uncles sleeping to the beat.
Michelle regarded Warwick’s solid warts and skinny eyebrows. “I don’t have the funds …” she lied.
Warwick glared. “Do you want me to shove that peculiar torch where the sun don’t shine?”
Michelle promptly remembered her violent and hungry values. “Actually, I do have the funds,” she admitted. She reached into her pockets. “Here’s what I owe you.”
Warwick looked jumpy, his wallet blushing like a plastic, poised piano.
Then Warwick came inside for a nice glass of port.THE END