Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Humor, postaday, Sunday Smiles

Silly Sunday

Hello, People!

Today for Silly Sunday I thought I would give you something a little different from my usual meme’s. Chris over at the Story Reading Apes blog posted about a plot generator. So I had some fun with it and generated a completely random story from it.

I did no edits and used a made up pen name. The story is, um, interesting to say the least. ha! Read and see for yourself. If you want to have a little fun go over to the Plot Generator and try it yourself! It even shows you a book cover! Sort of……Let me know your results if you do try it.

Not sure if I would use this for anything serious but you never know.

Here’s my story…..

 

(c) William Trost Richards
(c) William Trost Richards

 

Two Understanding Uncles Thinking to the Beat

A Short Story
by Lisa Hornblower

Roger Blackman looked at the weathered rock in his hands and felt barmy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his creepy surroundings. He had always loved picturesque Plymouth with its cruel, cautious cliffs. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel barmy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Charity Lakeman. Charity was an intuitive patient with spiky eyebrows and brunette lips.

Roger gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a clever, bold, brandy drinker with fluffy eyebrows and squat lips. His friends saw him as a high-pitched, huge hero. Once, he had even brought a plain puppy back from the brink of death.

But not even a clever person who had once brought a plain puppy back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Charity had in store today.

The sun shone like sitting owls, making Roger jumpy.

As Roger stepped outside and Charity came closer, he could see the motionless smile on her face.

Charity gazed with the affection of 7599 brave motionless mice. She said, in hushed tones, “I love you and I want love.”

Roger looked back, even more jumpy and still fingering the weathered rock. “Charity, I love you,” he replied.

They looked at each other with anxious feelings, like two puny, petite puppies walking at a very energetic holiday, which had R & B music playing in the background and two understanding uncles thinking to the beat.

Roger studied Charity’s spiky eyebrows and brunette lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began Roger in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Charity.”

Charity looked stressed, her emotions raw like a pretty, purring piano.

Roger could actually hear Charity’s emotions shatter into 1880 pieces. Then the intuitive patient hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of brandy would calm Roger’s nerves tonight.

THE END