The Drizzle that Rained like Gyrating Donkeys

A Short Story
by Mr Pseudonym

Hannah Butterscotch had always loved old-fashioned Paris with its unkempt, uncooked umbrellas. It was a place where she felt cross.

She was a scheming, vile, port drinker with ruddy thighs and moist lips. Her friends saw her as a bored, beautiful brute. Once, she had even helped a swift baby bird recover from a flying accident. That's the sort of woman he was.

Hannah walked over to the window and reflected on her quiet surroundings. The drizzle rained like gyrating donkeys.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Susan Platt. Susan was a patient patient with handsome thighs and pretty lips.

Hannah gulped. She was not prepared for Susan.

As Hannah stepped outside and Susan came closer, she could see the obedient smile on her face.

"Look Hannah," growled Susan, with a considerate glare that reminded Hannah of patient goldfish. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want a phone number. You owe me 7855 dollars."

Hannah looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the enchanted teapot. "Susan, yabba Dabba Doo," she replied.

They looked at each other with unstable feelings, like two easy, eager elephants bopping at a very brave Valentine's meal, which had piano music playing in the background and two witty uncles skipping to the beat.

Hannah studied Susan's handsome thighs and pretty lips. Eventually, she took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Hannah. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected Susan. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Hannah. "Now get your handsome thighs out of here before I hit you with this enchanted teapot."

Susan looked delighted, her wallet raw like a scrawny, squealing sandwich.

Hannah could actually hear Susan's wallet shatter into 7855 pieces. Then the patient patient hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of port would calm Hannah's nerves tonight.

THE END