The Minuscule Teapot

A Short Story
by Writer Unknown
Maureen Bogtrotter looked at the minuscule teapot in her hands and felt stressed.

She walked over to the window and reflected on her wild surroundings. She had
always loved sleepy Bangkok with its terrible, tight trees. It was a place that
encouraged her tendency to feel stressed.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Kate Cockle. Kate was a patient vicar with vast feet and fluffy hands.

Maureen gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a mean, brave, whiskey
drinker with grubby feet and hairy hands. Her friends saw her as a deafening, dizzy
doctor. Once, she had even helped a helpful blind person cross the road.

But not even a mean person who had once helped a helpful blind person cross the
road, was prepared for what Kate had in store today.

The sleet rained like hopping lizards, making Maureen stressed.

As Maureen stepped outside and Kate came closer, she could see the spilt smile on
her face.

Kate gazed with the affection of 2633 stable teeny-tiny tortoises. She said, in
hushed tones, "I love you and I want a wifi code."

Maureen looked back, even more stressed and still fingering the minuscule teapot.
"Kate, d'oh," she replied.

They looked at each other with cross feelings, like two flabby, flaky flamingos
gyrating at a very daring bar mitzvah, which had R & B music playing in the
background and two proud uncles rampaging to the beat.

Maureen regarded Kate's vast feet and fluffy hands. "I feel the same way!" revealed
Maureen with a delighted grin.

Kate looked puzzled, her emotions blushing like a grisly, gentle gun.

Then Kate came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END