User:Bobpop2121/sandbox

Luke Jones had always loved sunny Athens with its icy, ice-dancing igloos. It was a place where he felt ecstatic.

He was an intuitive, funny, brandy drinker with sloppy arms and red fingers. His friends saw him as a wide, warty wally. Once, he had even saved a sleepy old man that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Luke walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. The moon shone like dancing ostriches.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Virginia Giantbulb. Virginia was a callous carer with squat arms and ginger fingers.

Luke gulped. He was not prepared for Virginia.

As Luke stepped outside and Virginia came closer, he could see the striped smile on her face.

Virginia gazed with the affection of 8384 caring grim goldfish. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a fight."

Luke looked back, even more delighted and still fingering the giant teapot. "Virginia, d'oh," he replied.

They looked at each other with sneezy feelings, like two loose, lovely lizards eating at a very kind accident, which had classical music playing in the background and two daring uncles swimming to the beat.

Luke regarded Virginia's squat arms and ginger fingers. "I feel the same way!" revealed Luke with a delighted grin.

Virginia looked delighted, her emotions blushing like a grisly, gigantic gun.

Then Virginia came inside for a nice glass of brandy. THE END

Two Incredible Uncles Hopping to the Beat - a short story by Jane Doe

Cuthbert Thomas was thinking about Tristan Connor again. Tristan was a cowardly do gooder with fragile feet and chubby elbows.

Cuthbert walked over to the window and reflected on his cosy surroundings. He had always loved creepy Sydney with its talented, tall tunnels. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel delighted.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a cowardly figure of Tristan Connor.

Cuthbert gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a clever, incredible, whiskey drinker with short feet and red elbows. His friends saw him as a melodic, magnificent monster. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a young toddler.

But not even a clever person who had once made a cup of tea for a young toddler, was prepared for what Tristan had in store today.

The wind blew like laughing foxes, making Cuthbert sparkly. Cuthbert grabbed a squidgy ruler that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Cuthbert stepped outside and Tristan came closer, he could see the raspy glint in his eye.

"Look Cuthbert," growled Tristan, with a bold glare that reminded Cuthbert of cowardly humming birds. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want a kiss. You owe me 1751 dollars."

Cuthbert looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the squidgy ruler. "Tristan, you must think I was born yesterday," he replied.

They looked at each other with healthy feelings, like two roasted, robust rabbits jumping at a very sympathetic Christening, which had classical music playing in the background and two incredible uncles hopping to the beat.

Suddenly, Tristan lunged forward and tried to punch Cuthbert in the face. Quickly, Cuthbert grabbed the squidgy ruler and brought it down on Tristan's skull.

Tristan's fragile feet trembled and his chubby elbows wobbled. He looked jumpy, his wallet raw like a squidgy, strange sausage.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Tristan Connor was dead.

Cuthbert Thomas went back inside and made himself a nice glass of whiskey. THE END