The Snow

Gemma Russell was thinking about Laura Smart again. Laura was a greedy writer with squat toenails and moist eyes.

Gemma walked over to the window and reflected on her grey surroundings. She had always hated the beauty of Philadelphia with its leaking, lazy lake. It was a place that encouraged her tendency to feel unstable. Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the greedy figure of Laura Smart. Gemma gulped. She glanced at her own reflection. She was a considerate, greedy, beer drinker with curvy toenails and pink eyes. Her friends saw her as a quirky, quickest queen. Once, she had even helped a vivacious injured bird recover from a flying accident.

But not even a considerate person who had once helped a vivacious injured bird recover from a flying accident was prepared for what Laura had in-store today.

The snow flurried like jumping monkeys, making Gemma confident. Gemma grabbed a tattered teapot that had been strewn nearby; she massaged it with her fingers.

As Gemma stepped outside and Laura came closer, she could see the angry glint in his eye. Laura gazed with the affection of 2916 cowardly motionless monkeys. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want revenge."

Gemma looked back, even more confident and still fingering the tattered teapot. "Laura, I love you," she replied.

They looked at each other with sleepy feelings, like two curved, clean cats chatting at a very stingy Valentine's meal, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two cute uncles eating to the beat.

Suddenly, Laura lunged forward and tried to punch Gemma in the face. Quickly, Gemma grabbed the tattered teapot and brought it down on Laura's skull. Laura's squat toenails trembled and his moist eyes wobbled. He looked ecstatic, his emotions raw like a sweaty, smiling sandwich. Then he let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Laura Smart was dead. Gemma Russell went back inside and made herself a nice drink of beer.