The Clouds that Danced like Running Goldfish
A Short Story
by Mark Antony Raines
Roy Blunder looked at the tattered torch in his hands and felt unstable.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his idyllic surroundings. He had always loved derelict Dallas with its kaleidoscopic, keen kettles. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Matthew Grey. Matthew was a loving academic with curvaceous eyelashes and squat fingernails.
Roy gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a spiteful, stupid, brandy drinker with sticky eyelashes and ugly fingernails. His friends saw him as an oily, odd ogre. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a terrible blind person.
But not even a spiteful person who had once made a cup of tea for a terrible blind person, was prepared for what Matthew had in store today.
The clouds danced like running goldfish, making Roy sparkly.
As Roy stepped outside and Matthew came closer, he could see the outrageous smile on his face.
"Look Roy," growled Matthew, with a charming glare that reminded Roy of loving kittens. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 312 pounds."
Roy looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the tattered torch. "Matthew, exterminate," he replied.
They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two grubby, gentle gerbils skipping at a very clever dinner party, which had piano music playing in the background and two clever uncles jogging to the beat.
Suddenly, Matthew lunged forward and tried to punch Roy in the face. Quickly, Roy grabbed the tattered torch and brought it down on Matthew's skull.
Matthew's curvaceous eyelashes trembled and his squat fingernails wobbled. He looked sparkly, his wallet raw like a smoggy, sleepy sandwich.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Matthew Grey was dead.
Roy Blunder went back inside and made himself a nice glass of brandy.
THE END
He walked over to the window and reflected on his idyllic surroundings. He had always loved derelict Dallas with its kaleidoscopic, keen kettles. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Matthew Grey. Matthew was a loving academic with curvaceous eyelashes and squat fingernails.
Roy gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a spiteful, stupid, brandy drinker with sticky eyelashes and ugly fingernails. His friends saw him as an oily, odd ogre. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a terrible blind person.
But not even a spiteful person who had once made a cup of tea for a terrible blind person, was prepared for what Matthew had in store today.
The clouds danced like running goldfish, making Roy sparkly.
As Roy stepped outside and Matthew came closer, he could see the outrageous smile on his face.
"Look Roy," growled Matthew, with a charming glare that reminded Roy of loving kittens. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want justice. You owe me 312 pounds."
Roy looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the tattered torch. "Matthew, exterminate," he replied.
They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two grubby, gentle gerbils skipping at a very clever dinner party, which had piano music playing in the background and two clever uncles jogging to the beat.
Suddenly, Matthew lunged forward and tried to punch Roy in the face. Quickly, Roy grabbed the tattered torch and brought it down on Matthew's skull.
Matthew's curvaceous eyelashes trembled and his squat fingernails wobbled. He looked sparkly, his wallet raw like a smoggy, sleepy sandwich.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Matthew Grey was dead.
Roy Blunder went back inside and made himself a nice glass of brandy.
THE END
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