Charming Jeff Blackman

A Short Story
by big lux

Phil Johnson looked at the stripy teapot in his hands and felt
lonely.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his damp

surroundings. He had always loved quiet Moscow with its nice,
nasty nooks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to
feel lonely.

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

was the figure of Jeff Blackman. Jeff was a charming god with
hairy toenails and brown thighs.

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

hopeful, wild, port drinker with brown toenails and hairy thighs.
His friends saw him as a worried, whispering writer. Once, he
had even helped a mammoth owl cross the road.

But not even a hopeful person who had once helped a

mammoth owl cross the road, was prepared for what Jeff had
in store today.

The sleet rained like walking owls, making Phil concerned.

As Phil stepped outside and Jeff came closer, he could see the
courageous glint in his eye.

Jeff gazed with the affection of 4642 splendid fantastic foxes.

He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a fight."

Phil looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the
stripy teapot. "Jeff, get out of my house," he replied.
They looked at each other with healthy feelings, like two
leaking, late lizards running at a very snooty bar mitzvah, which
had jazz music playing in the background and two daring
uncles jogging to the beat.

Phil regarded Jeff's hairy toenails and brown thighs. "I feel the
same way!" revealed Phil with a delighted grin.

Jeff looked puzzled, his emotions blushing like a rough,

roasted ruler.

Then Jeff came inside for a nice glass of port.

THE END