The Damp Ruler

A Short Story
by Random Writer

Heather Trescothik was thinking about Darth Chan again. Darth was a rude do gooder
with slimy thighs and blonde legs.

Heather walked over to the window and reflected on her dirty surroundings. She had
always loved rural Liverpool with its vigilant, valid volcanoes. It was a place
that encouraged her tendency to feel relaxed.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a rude figure
of Darth Chan.

Heather gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a callous, daring,
squash drinker with handsome thighs and pointy legs. Her friends saw her as a
burnt, bad banker. Once, she had even helped a stupid baby cross the road.

But not even a callous person who had once helped a stupid baby cross the road, was
prepared for what Darth had in store today.

The sun shone like drinking horses, making Heather ambivalent. Heather grabbed a
damp ruler that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Heather stepped outside and Darth came closer, she could see the excited glint
in his eye.

"Look Heather," growled Darth, with a stingy glare that reminded Heather of rude
owls. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want a fight. You owe me 9463
dollars."

Heather looked back, even more ambivalent and still fingering the damp ruler.
"Darth, I admire your eyebrows," she replied.

They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two mashed, motionless
maggots hopping at a very brutal birthday party, which had flute music playing in
the background and two loving uncles sitting to the beat.

Heather studied Darth's slimy thighs and blonde legs. Eventually, she took a deep
breath. "I'm afraid I declared myself bankrupt," explained Heather. "You will never
get your money."

"No!" objected Darth. "You lie!"

"I do not!" retorted Heather. "Now get your slimy thighs out of here before I hit
you with this damp ruler."

Darth looked shocked, his wallet raw like a mashed, mute map.

Heather could actually hear Darth's wallet shatter into 9463 pieces. Then the rude
do gooder hurried away into the distance.

Not even a beaker of squash would calm Heather's nerves tonight.

THE END