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Tuesday
May 29, 2012
2:27pm EDT


Content Rating Notice:  Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only
  >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Fantasy >> ID #1519528  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Transitional Sentences
A container for the thing contained.
Rated:
18+
by
Avg Rating: (3)
      While ice fishing. I noticed a small group of highschool girls on the banks.
      At first I thought they were snow ball fighting.  A closer look with binoculars,
      revealed a maylay. Something, had stirred up a fight amongst them. I put
      my rod down an covered my bucket of smelt. The distance was a fifteen
      minute walk.

      I began to speak, but was interupted, "The thing for the thing!" one girl shouted.
      She started to swing a milk bottle on a rope. I got banged up the left side
      of my head. I didn't know how to dissarm this swing milk bottle. In a
      moment of daring I rushed the girl and tackled her into the snow.

      "Drat that man he scared away a perfectly darling container for the thing.
      A big beautiful one too!" another girl shouted and lept on my back. They piled
      on me and pummelled me. At this point I was convinced these girls were
      high on illegal drugs. "It was the most wonderful container for the darling
      thing contained!" one girl growled.

      "I've got some smelt in a bucket.. It's yours!" I begged for my life.
       
                          "A rose grows by a mossy stone
                          Half hidden from the eye,
                          Fair as a star when ninety-eight
                          Are shining in the sky."
     
      The girls chanted and formed a circle about me. Perhaps, this was a cult or
      mass hysteria. "Ehm? What are you girls doing out here?" I asked softly.
      They just started skipping about in circles around a circle of me. I reasoned,
      since there was no reason to them I should run away.

      I stood bent and rammed my way through the circle. The little devils chased
      me to my truck. "Alright! That's enough!" I leapted through the passenger
      window and roled it up. "Bump on a log! Give me my milk bottle!" one
      of the crazed girls shouted. What milk bottle? I didn't have it. She beat her
      fists on the windsheild.

      I could see her face clearly. It was contorted and her eyes were popping out.
      It was time to call the police. "Hello. Yes, I'd need some help. A group of
      highschool girls have trapped me in my truck. Ah, I'm at the bay. Thanks."
      Maybe, I should drive slowly to the mall. Oh my God they're rocking the truck.

      Thank goodness the police have arrived. The girls have calmed down.
      "Officer. Thank God your here. I was..." before I can finish I'm being hand cuffed.
      Well, that's what I remember.

      That's my statement,

      Jaspher.
© Copyright 2009 bob county (UN: muzzy43 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
bob county has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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