Morwenna Thornhill was thinking about Laura Meadows again. Laura was an intuitive juggler with sticky lips and chubby toes.
Morwenna walked over to the window and reflected on her industrial surroundings. She had always loved sunny Cambridge with its fair, faffdorking fields. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel afraid.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the an intuitive figure of Laura Meadows.
Morwenna gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a hungry, witty, port drinker with hairy lips and chubby toes. Her friends saw her as a gentle, giant gamer. Once, she had even saved a homeless disabled person that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a hungry person who had once saved a homeless disabled person that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Laura had in store today.
The drizzle rained like skipping pigeons, making Morwenna surprised. Morwenna grabbed a magic knife that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Morwenna stepped outside and Laura came closer, she could see the ashamed glint in her eye.
“I am here because I want revenge,” Laura bellowed, in a loving tone. She slammed her fist against Morwenna’s chest, with the force of 3466 gerbils. “I frigging love you, Morwenna Thornhill.”
Morwenna looked back, even more surprised and still fingering the magic knife. “Laura, oh my God they killed Kenny,” she replied.
They looked at each other with puzzled feelings, like two muddy, mute monkeys sleeping at a very spiteful bar mitzvah, which had flute music playing in the background and two vile uncles jumping to the beat.
Morwenna regarded Laura’s sticky lips and chubby toes. She held out her hand. “Let’s not fight,” she whispered, gently.
“Hmph,” pondered Laura.
“Please?” begged Morwenna with puppy dog eyes.
Laura looked irritable, her body blushing like a mouldy, muddy map.
Then Laura came inside for a nice glass of port.THE END