Predatory Peter Parker
Predatory Peter Parker2 mins 210 2 mins 210
Peter Parker looked at the ribbed hawk in his hands and felt fuzzy. He walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. He had always loved beautiful New York with its weary, wasteful waters. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel fuzzy. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Kate Parker. Kate was an understanding ogre with beautiful feet and dirty eyebrows. Peter gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a predatory, tight-fisted, tea drinker with chubby feet and tall eyebrows. His friends saw him as an abundant, adventurous author. Once, he had even helped a blue chicken cross the road.
But not even a predatory person who had once helped a blue chicken cross the road, was prepared for what Kate had in store today. The hail pounded like laughing rabbits, making Peter jumpy. As Peter stepped outside and Kate came closer, he could see the fragile glint in her eye. "I am here because I want a fight," Kate bellowed, in an incredible tone.
She slammed her fist against Peter's chest, with the force of 4924 toads. "I frigging love you, Peter Parker." Peter looked back, even more jumpy and still fingering the ribbed hawk. "Kate, hands up or I'll shoot," he replied. They looked at each other with sneezy feelings, like two bumpy, brainy badgers jumping at a very cold-blooded bar mitzvah, which had flute music playing in the background and two scheming uncles partying to the beat. Peter regarded Kate's beautiful feet and dirty eyebrows. He held out his hand.
"Let's not fight," he whispered, gently. "Hmph," pondered Kate. "Please?" begged Peter with puppy dog eyes. Kate looked irritable, her body blushing like a motionless, mangled map. Then Kate came inside for a nice cup of tea.