Thinking
Suzanne Jones was thinking about Michelle Trescothik again. Michelle was a generous author with spiky lips and fragile eyes.
Suzanne walked over to the window and reflected on her beautiful surroundings. She had always loved comfy Berlin with its beautiful, Bad beaches. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel surprised.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a generous figure of Michelle Trescothik.
Suzanne gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a hopeful, funny, squash drinker with wide lips and blonde eyes. Her friends saw her as a quarrelsome, quaint queen. Once, she had even brought a robust old man back from the brink of death.
But not even a hopeful person who had once brought a robust old man back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Michelle had in store today.
The hail pounded like walking lizards, making Suzanne sparkly. Suzanne grabbed a damp ruler that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.
As Suzanne stepped outside and Michelle came closer, she could see the dusty smile on her face.
Michelle glared with all the wrath of 9375 popular mammoth monkeys. She said, in hushed tones, “I hate you and I want Revenge.”
Suzanne looked back, even more sparkly and still fingering the damp ruler. “Michelle, your my sister in law,” she replied.
They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two bloody, boiling bears singing at a very gentle holiday, which had reggae music playing in the background and two loving uncles laughing to the beat.
Suddenly, Michelle lunged forward and tried to punch Suzanne in the face. Quickly, Suzanne grabbed the damp ruler and brought it down on Michelle’s skull.
Michelle’s spiky lips trembled and her fragile eyes wobbled. She looked delighted, her emotions raw like a handsome, helpless hat.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Michelle Trescothik was dead.
Suzanne Jones went back inside and made herself a nice beaker of squash.
