William Godfrey had always loved cold Berlin with its wandering, wild waters. It was a place where he felt cross.
He was a grateful, hungry, brandy drinker with wide fingernails and ginger eyelashes. His friends saw him as a black, boiling bear. Once, he had even saved an inquisitive blind person that was stuck in a drain. That’s the sort of man he was.
William walked over to the Berlin window and reflected on his backward surroundings. The hail pounded like skipping cats.
Berlin
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mark Pigeon. Mark was a vile angel with slimy fingernails and curvaceous eyelashes.
William gulped. He was not prepared for Berlin.
As William stepped outside and Mark came closer, he could see the friendly glint in his eye.
Mark gazed with the affection of 7339 popular panicky pigeons. He said, in hushed tones, “I love you Berlin and I want equality.”
William looked back, even more sneezy and still fingering the cursed sausage. “Mark, yabba Dabba Doo,” he replied.
They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two handsome, heavy humming birds singing at a very special carol service, which had R & B music playing in the background and two predatory uncles eating to the beat.
William studied Mark’s slimy fingernails and curvaceous eyelashes. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” began William in apologetic tones, “but I don’t feel the same way, and I never will. I just don’t love you Mark.”
Mark looked relaxed, his emotions raw like a short, substantial sandwich.
William could actually hear Mark’s emotions shatter into 3340 pieces. Then the vile angel hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of brandy would calm William’s nerves tonight.
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