Friday, 20 November 2009

Broken legs.

Max took another look at my cast.
"Who'd have thought all those zany adventures we got up to would actually hurt someone... God, it's shocking when you think about it!"
I looked down at my leg slowly, then back at Max:
 "What zany adventures? You pushed me down the stairs and called me Charlie. That's not zany, it's just stupid and unfunny."
 "Yea, I suppose." He replied, "Well, sorry about this, but I've got to do it."
Reaching into the bag he'd taken with him to the hospital - the contents of which I'd already wondered about - Max produced a shotgun.
 "Again, I'm sorry I've got to do this. But if I don't put you down (He loaded the shotgun) the only option left is to put you out to stud. And you wouldn't like that at all."
Normally, I'd explain how I wasn't a horse, how that wasn't how horses worked, and how being put out to stud was far preferable to being shot, but there seemed no point today. I'd checked, and the omens were certain. Asteroids were coming to destroy the earth. Soon, the sky would burn, and the ground would... burn as well, I suppose. I might as well let him shoot me, there was no chance of studding with this leg.
I was on the 19th floor, for God's sake. Can't use the lift in cases of asteroids

1 comment:

Lizzie Simpson said...

You have made the pain of that French grammer test go away by entertaining me for the last 15 mins!

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