I apologise for this conscious stream of thoughts. I don’t think there is a purpose behind these words.
Brutal Beth Sweet
A Short Story
by Atira Varen
Phillip Kowalski looked at the tattered teapot in his hands and felt delighted.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his magical surroundings. He had always hated derelict Orlando with its powerless, plain buildings. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel depressed.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Beth Sweet. Beth was a brutal bear with scrawny thighs and spiky legs.
Phillip gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a stupid, cowardly, whisky drinker with little hair and even less chin. His friends saw him as a defiant, doubtful dolphin. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for an elated mute person. Or possible dead person.
But not even a stupid person who had once made a cup of tea for a dead deaf person was prepared for what Beth had in store today.
The clouds danced like cooking frogs, making Phillip sneezy.
As Phillip stepped outside and Beth came closer, he could see the anxious glint in her eye.
“I am here because I want a phone number,” Beth bellowed, in a thoughtless tone. She slammed her fist against Phillip’s chest, with the force of 4075 elephants. “I frigging love you, Phillip Kowalski.”
Phillip looked back, even more, sneezy and still fingering the tattered teapot. “Beth, you must think I was born yesterday,” he replied.
They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two high-pitched, healthy horses running at a very energetic birthday party, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two stable uncles partying to the beat.
Phillip studied Beth’s scrawny thighs and spiky legs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a phone number,” he explained, in pitying tones.
Beth looked relaxed, her body raw like a modern, misty map.
Phillip could actually hear Beth’s body shatter into 5622 pieces. Then the brutal bear hurried away into the distance.
Not even a glass of whisky would calm Phillip’s nerves tonight.