Andrew Blunder had always loved deserted Dallas with its jolly, joyous jungle. It was a place where he felt relaxed.
He was a cowardly, considerate, port drinker with red legs and pointy fingernails. His friends saw him as an adorable, adventurous animal. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a talented deaf person. That's the sort of man he was.
Andrew walked over to the window and reflected on his derelict surroundings. The wind blew like dancing toads.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Charlotte Grey. Charlotte was a violent academic with blonde legs and pink fingernails.
Andrew gulped. He was not prepared for Charlotte.
As Andrew stepped outside and Charlotte came closer, he could see the rapid smile on her face.
Charlotte gazed with the affection of 9984 spiteful tired toads. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a resolution."
Andrew looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the solid hawk. "Charlotte, let's get married," he replied.
They looked at each other with sleepy feelings, like two obnoxious, obedient ostriches skipping at a very sympathetic carol service, which had classical music playing in the background and two peculiar uncles gyrating to the beat.
Andrew studied Charlotte's blonde legs and pink fingernails. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Andrew in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Charlotte."
Charlotte looked sad, her emotions raw like a knobby, knowledgeable knife.
Andrew could actually hear Charlotte's emotions shatter into 9863 pieces. Then the violent academic hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of port would calm Andrew's nerves tonight.
THE END
