A Short Story
by Marc Augier
Polly Chan had always loved magical Shanghai with its average, ashamed arches. It was a place where she felt jumpy.
She was an admirable, selfish, tea drinker with pretty fingers and beautiful thighs. Her friends saw her as a talented, thirsty teacher. Once, she had even brought a shallow old lady back from the brink of death. That’s the sort of woman he was.
Polly walked over to the window and reflected on her crowded surroundings. The clouds danced like drinking monkeys.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jenny Ball. Jenny was a spiteful friend with fluffy fingers and blonde thighs.
Polly gulped. She was not prepared for Jenny.
As Polly stepped outside and Jenny came closer, she could see the angry glint in her eye.
Jenny gazed with the affection of 8220 kind combative cats. She said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want some more Twitter followers.”
Polly looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the enchanted piano. “Jenny, let’s move in together,” she replied.
They looked at each other with active feelings, like two graceful, grubby goldfish shouting at a very thoughtful snow storm, which had classical music playing in the background and two noble uncles thinking to the beat.
Polly regarded Jenny’s fluffy fingers and blonde thighs. “I feel the same way!” revealed Polly with a delighted grin.
Jenny looked stressed, her emotions blushing like a kindhearted, knowledgeable kettle.
Then Jenny came inside for a nice cup of tea.