3726
« on: March 04, 2015, 10:20:40 AM »
put in random stuff and got an interesting story
Tactless Luke Hemingway
A Short Story
by u
Luke Hemingway had always loved rural Moscow with its important, iffy igloos. It was a place where he felt surprised.
He was a tactless, funny, whiskey drinker with scrawny fingers and hairy legs. His friends saw him as a damaged, deafening doctor. Once, he had even saved a resonant blind person that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.
Luke walked over to the window and reflected on his urban surroundings. The moon shone like boating cats.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Albert Slaughterhouse. Albert was an understanding deity with pointy fingers and sticky legs.
Luke gulped. He was not prepared for Albert.
As Luke stepped outside and Albert came closer, he could see the steamed glint in his eye.
"I am here because I want a wifi code," Albert bellowed, in a charming tone. He slammed his fist against Luke's chest, with the force of 6097 pigeons. "I frigging love you, Luke Hemingway."
Luke looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the ribbed teapot. "Albert, Is that real leather," he replied.
They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two rabblesnatching, round rabbits shouting at a very clumsy accident, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two proud uncles swimming to the beat.
Suddenly, Albert lunged forward and tried to punch Luke in the face. Quickly, Luke grabbed the ribbed teapot and brought it down on Albert's skull.
Albert's pointy fingers trembled and his sticky legs wobbled. He looked confident, his body raw like a gentle, glamorous gun.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Albert Slaughterhouse was dead.
Luke Hemingway went back inside and made himself a nice glass of whiskey.
THE END