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Flam 23

eZine's profile picture
Published in 
Flam
 · 5 years ago

  

this story is entitled "oranges for mister joer"


one night, as the little girl, rachel, walked down the street, she w\fell in a well and was
never seen again. see, she tumbled down and down and down and tumbled further into the dark
places down int he well. her sklirt would have inflated, but she was wearing pants, so as
to make for easier tree-climbing, and falling-wiothout-inflating, in deed. they were
corderoys, blue ones. anyway, as she fell, rather quikly, you see, but such a long way to
fall, she thought to herself, perhaps i would like a cup of tea and some bananas right now.
so to her kitchen in her house she ran, and put on water, for her t4ea, and indeed she had
no banans and replaced them with roasted gaa-nomes (as they look much alike) and little bags
of ivory sxnow that the little boy had found. he often found little things here and there,
saved then to make a flying machine in witch he could escape the round perfect sppheres that
haunted his sleep. as he flew higher and higher he saw his little house get smaller and
smaller, and more unimportant, to the fact that if it blew up, with all its contents and loved
ones and enemies and other poeple of no pareticular status,
he should not care because now he was up int he air, and when he climbed down from the tree,
his mother told him of the tomato soup and grilled cheese he was to have for dinner. it was
almost dark, you see, but summer. and it would always continue to be, because everyday the
same. in three years, the ant grew 7 years worth, his parents so proud. he was a mighty large
ant, and was popluar at his ant school. and he was goping to save the ant-world or somesuch.
but one day the little girl with pink hair ribons and curly bloud hair droped a rock on his
world and he was squished, and quite dead, indeed. as i was saying, the ant was dead and so
the girl picked up the rock, and finished off her little desert with hero-ant-guts hjow
wonderful she must feel, to eat such noble squish. but the next day, ever sick she bacame.
and many years later, and she lay in her bed, dieing, indeed, for the last many years, she
tought of the way she used to eat pistachios on sunday after noons with the dog across the
cemetary, and share them with the ghost, and vampire , indeed.

the end.

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