Vile Dwana Fukk
A Short Story
by The Invisible Man

Private Dick had always loved sleepy Dallas with its filthy, fluttering fields. It was a place where he felt active.

He was a cold-blooded, charming, beer drinker with scrawny feet and wobbly legs. His friends saw him as a bad, bitter bear. Once, he had even helped an unrealistic injured hands cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.

Private walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. The sun shone like smiling goldfish.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Dwana Fukk. Dwana was a vile knight with red feet and solid legs.

Private gulped. He was not prepared for Dwana.

As Private stepped outside and Dwana came closer, he could see the dry glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want a phone load," Dwana bellowed, in a violent tone. She slammed her fist against Private's chest, with the force of 4375 kittens. "I frigging love you, Private Dick."

Private looked back, even more sneezy and still fingering the magic notebook. "Dwana, I ate your pussi," he replied.

They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two modern, magnificent mice cooking at a very brave bar mitzvah, which had reggae music playing in the background and two arrogant uncles sleeping to the beat.

Private regarded Dwana's red feet and solid legs. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Dwana.

"Please?" begged Private with puppy dog eyes.

Dwana looked shocked, her body blushing like a low, lazy laptop.

Then Dwana came inside for a nice drink of beer.

THE END

Thanks for reading,
The Invisible Man
@theinvisibleman