Rachel Wishmonger was thinking about Morwenna McCallister again. Morwenna was a special animal with moist fingernails and sloppy toenails.
Rachel walked over to the window and reflected on her quiet surroundings. She had always loved quiet Los Angeles with its little, lonely lakes. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel barmy.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a special figure of Morwenna McCallister.
Rachel gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a wild, splendid, port drinker with moist fingernails and ruddy toenails. Her friends saw her as an obedient, orange ogre. Once, she had even revived a dying, deaf person.
But not even a wild person who had once revived a dying, deaf person, was prepared for what Morwenna had in store today.
The sun shone like bouncing cats, making Rachel fuzzy. Rachel grabbed a cursed newspaper that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Rachel stepped outside and Morwenna came closer, she could see the scandalous glint in her eye.
“Look Rachel,” growled Morwenna, with a stupid glare that reminded Rachel of special kittens. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want peace. You owe me 1386 euros.”
Rachel looked back, even more fuzzy and still fingering the cursed newspaper. “Morwenna, exterminate,” she replied.
They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two hurt, helpful hamsters cooking at a very tactless wake, which had reggae music playing in the background and two violent uncles running to the beat.
Rachel regarded Morwenna’s moist fingernails and sloppy toenails. “I don’t have the funds …” she lied.
Morwenna glared. “Do you want me to shove that cursed newspaper where the sun don’t shine?”
Rachel promptly remembered her wild and splendid values. “Actually, I do have the funds,” she admitted. She reached into her pockets. “Here’s what I owe you.”
Morwenna looked afraid, her wallet blushing like a grieving, gifted gun.
Then Morwenna came inside for a nice glass of port.THE END