Grey Exeter

A Short Story
by Random Writer

Tommy Doop looked at the weathered gun in his hands and felt
sad.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted

surroundings. He had always loved grey Exeter with its
panicky, plain parks. It was a place that encouraged his
tendency to feel sad.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It

was the figure of Roger Barker. Roger was a stupid saint with
short fingernails and sloppy feet.

Tommy gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a

considerate, gentle, beer drinker with sticky fingernails and
wide feet. His friends saw him as a long, loopy lover. Once, he
had even jumped into a river and saved a smooth blind person.

But not even a considerate person who had once jumped into a
river and saved a smooth blind person, was prepared for what
Roger had in store today.

The rain hammered like smiling guppies, making Tommy

sneezy.

As Tommy stepped outside and Roger came closer, he could

see the ugly smile on his face.

"Look Tommy," growled Roger, with a snooty glare that

reminded Tommy of stupid bears. "It's not that I don't love you,
but I want a pencil. You owe me 7194 gold pieces."

Tommy looked back, even more sneezy and still fingering the
weathered gun. "Roger, I am your father," he replied.

They looked at each other with angry feelings, like two

outrageous, orange owls laughing at a very adorable dinner
party, which had trance music playing in the background and
two deranged uncles hopping to the beat.

Suddenly, Roger lunged forward and tried to punch Tommy in

the face. Quickly, Tommy grabbed the weathered gun and
brought it down on Roger's skull.

Roger's short fingernails trembled and his sloppy feet wobbled.

He looked cross, his wallet raw like a misty, mute map.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the

ground. Moments later Roger Barker was dead.

Tommy Doop went back inside and made himself a nice drink
of beer.

THE END