The Cursed Gun

A Short Story
by A. H. Merple
Japhet Sorolla looked at the cursed gun in his hands and felt concerned.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his rural surroundings. He had always loved idyllic
Upper Boggington with its sneezing, slippery swamps. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to
feel concerned.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of William Ball. William was
a stingy hero with handsome toes and wide toes.

Japhet gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a tactless, stable, port drinker with feathery toes
and ruddy toes. His friends saw him as a vigilant, vigorous volcano. Once, he had even made a cup of tea
for a loose owl.

But not even a tactless person who had once made a cup of tea for a loose owl, was prepared for what
William had in store today.

The drizzle rained like singing donkeys, making Japhet ambivalent.

As Japhet stepped outside and William came closer, he could see the zealous smile on his face.

"Look Japhet," growled William, with a smelly glare that reminded Japhet of stingy humming birds. "It's
not that I don't love you, but I want revenge. You owe me 2959 euros."

Japhet looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the cursed gun. "William, let's get married,"
he replied.

They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two faint, fast frogs sitting at a very adorable carol
service, which had flute music playing in the background and two selfish uncles talking to the beat.

Japhet studied William's handsome toes and wide toes. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid I
declared myself bankrupt," explained Japhet. "You will never get your money."

"No!" objected William. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Japhet. "Now get your handsome toes out of here before I hit you with this cursed
gun."

William looked puzzled, his wallet raw like a muddy, mutated map.

Japhet could actually hear William's wallet shatter into 2959 pieces. Then the stingy hero hurried away
into the distance.

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

THE END