Category: Black Sands

“See, this is why I cannot stand you,” grumbled Swamp Fiend. “You all think you’re funny and all of you are so unhealthy.”

“Tell me about it,” lamented Sprite. “Just the other day, I was tweeting about my bad posture.”

“Spinal tweets?” asked Swamp Fiend.

“Yeah, it was about a weak back,” smirked Sprite.

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“I cannot stand you, creatures, any longer,” growled Swamp Fiend.

“Why not?” asked Sprite.

“You infest every island you arrive on,” growled Swamp Fiend. “You’re like an infection.”

“Oh, I understand,” replied Sprite. “I hate it when infections invade my body without permission. It makes me sick.”

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“I said,” growled Swamp Fiend, “get out of my house.”

“I’m so sorry,” gasped Sprite.

“Did you not hear me the first time?” asked Swamp Fiend.

“Well, my doctor told me I was going deaf a few years ago,” pondered Sprite. “I haven’t heard from her since.”

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Sprite woke up, covered in mud. She took in her surroundings. Wildflowers grew in every direction, surrounded by trees, reaching up out of the swampland.

She tried pushing herself up, only to sink her hands into the bog. It was then she noticed a bunch of flowers with a pile of college books. It looked like they were studying STEM. Sprite chortled.

“Get out of my house,” boomed a voice from below.

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“I feel like you’ve known me for a longer time than I’ve known you,” remarked Meria.

“Your feelings are probably right,” chuckled Lucy. “I saw you a few years ago. In a pub like this one. You were with James, grinning ear to ear.”

“I’d just seen him spike my drink,” sighed Meria. “I knew if I could swap our glasses, I could save myself some chloroform.”

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“I don’t think you’d break up with your missus over a silly argument,” remarked Meria.

“Oh, we haven’t broken up,” replied Lucy. “It’s just my partner said she enjoys sex more when she’s on holiday.”

“Ah, right,” said Meria.

“I’m telling you,” said Lucy, “that was an awkward postcard to receive.”

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“So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?” asked Meria.

“Fallout with the missus, you know how it is,” replied Lucy.

“What’s the problem?” asked Meria.

“She was having a fit over my terrible direction sense,” grumbled Lucy. “So I packed my bags and right.”

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“You know,” said Meria, swiping through her phone. “You’re the spitting image of a woman I once knew called Mabel.”

Lucy peered at the picture on Meria’s phone. “Damn, you’re right.”

“She could be your twin,” pondered Meria.

“She could be,” sighed Lucy. A little peeved that she had another one to track down and kill.

For those subscribed by email, yup, this did appear yesterday. While scheduling this post, I was presented with a big red banner on WordPress that said there was an error scheduling. Then, doh, it was live on my site. Sorry to everyone on email for the double mail.

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“Where have you been?” asked Meria as Lucy slipped back into the pub.

“I popped across an island to see a well-reputed psychic,” replied Lucy.

“Oh, aye?” asked Meria. “Did she read your fortune?”

“No,” sighed Lucy. “I knocked on her door and she yelled, “who is it?” So I left.”

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“How did you die?” asked Jelly.

“I got too cold,” sighed Cuttle.

“Your obituary said you died of hyperthermia while trekking across the Antartic with a paint company for charity,” recalled Parrotfish.

“That’s right,” sighed Cuttle. “I needed a second coat.”

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