Christian DeVito was thinking about Mildred Sweet again. Mildred was a proud patient with handsome arms and greasy ankles.

Christian walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always loved dull Upper Boggington with its average, alert arches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel worried.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a proud figure of Mildred Sweet.

Christian gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a mean, special, wine drinker with dirty arms and solid ankles. His friends saw him as an average, alert angel. Once, he had even helped a stinky injured bird recover from a flying accident.

But not even a mean person who had once helped a stinky injured bird recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Mildred had in store today.

The sleet rained like jumping donkeys, making Christian ecstatic. Christian grabbed a ribbed map that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Christian stepped outside and Mildred came closer, he could see the defeated glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want a phone number," Mildred bellowed, in a cowardly tone. She slammed her fist against Christian's chest, with the force of 140 giraffes. "I frigging love you, Christian DeVito."

Christian looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the ribbed map. "Mildred, Is that real leather," he replied.

They looked at each other with sleepy feelings, like two precious, pleasant pigeons thinking at a very cowardly funeral, which had piano music playing in the background and two stable uncles partying to the beat.

Suddenly, Mildred lunged forward and tried to punch Christian in the face. Quickly, Christian grabbed the ribbed map and brought it down on Mildred's skull.

Mildred's handsome arms trembled and her greasy ankles wobbled. She looked sad, her body raw like a barbecued, brave banana.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Mildred Sweet was dead.

Christian DeVito went back inside and made himself a nice glass of wine.

This story was created with the Short Story Generator.