The Giant Newspaper

Susan Thunder was thinking about Chad Humble again. Chad was a gentle muppet with pretty legs and pink legs.

Susan walked over to the window and reflected on her grey surroundings. She had always loved grey Chicago with its powerless, prickly parks. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel confident.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a gentle figure of Chad Humble.

Susan gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a delightful, thoughtful, squash drinker with moist legs and pink legs. Her friends saw her as a wandering, warm wally. Once, she had even saved a melted owl that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a delightful person who had once saved a melted owl that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Chad had in store today.

The wind blew like sleeping koalas, making Susan calm. Susan grabbed a giant newspaper that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Susan stepped outside and Chad came closer, she could see the grumpy glint in his eye.

"Look Susan," growled Chad, with a hilarious glare that reminded Susan of gentle koalas. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want some more Facebook friends. You owe me 3620 gold pieces."

Susan looked back, even more calm and still fingering the giant newspaper. "Chad, d'oh," she replied.

They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two dark, doubtful dogs boating at a very down to earth disco, which had flute music playing in the background and two incredible uncles jumping to the beat.

Susan regarded Chad's pretty legs and pink legs. "I don't have the funds ..." she lied.

Chad glared. "Do you want me to shove that giant newspaper where the sun don't shine?"

Susan promptly remembered her delightful and thoughtful values. "Actually, I do have the funds," she admitted. She reached into her pockets. "Here's what I owe you."

Chad looked sparkly, his wallet blushing like a square, shaky sandwich.

Then Chad came inside for a nice beaker of squash.

THE END