Twittered

Two more dead Sprites washed ashore beside them and sunk into the black sands. “Look,” sighed Parrotfish, swiping through the tweets about the author who created Sprites passing.

The trio gasped as they saw tweet after tweet from humans announcing the deaths of their childhoods. “That’ll do it,” lamented Cuttle.

“Why are humans so eager to kill off what they once loved,” asked Jelly.

Puns return tomorrow. I just wanted a wee bit of character progression this week.

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Repeat

“Famed children’s picturebook author dies,” read Cuttle. “It looks like Sprites creator has passed away.”

“So, how come so many Sprites are washing ashore and dying?” asked Jelly. “Surely if we’re humans hopes, dreams and ideas, the Sprites should be living on here. Civilization doesn’t just forget something overnight.”

“The way human history repeats itself,” pondered Cuttle, “I’m not so sure about that.”

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Trends

The trio watched another Sprite emerge from the ocean, let out a cry for help, before immediately sinking into the black sands.

“I saw Sprites trending on Twitter this morning,” remarked Cuttle.

“I’ve had enough of social media,” pondered Parrotfish. “I’m on a social media detox at the moment.”

“Fair enough,” replied Jelly. “What do folks on Twitter think about that?”

“I dunno,” replied Parrotfish, pulling their phone out and opening the app.

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Tweeted

“New phone?” asked Parrotfish.

“Yeah,” replied Jelly. “Just signing onto all my social media apps.”

“What’s your Twitter handle?” asked Cuttle.

“I’m not on Twitter,” lamented Jelly. “I find too many twits make a twat.”

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Spectre

Spectre awoke to find himself surrounded by Sprites. In the dim light of the moon, it took him a moment to realise they were dead. Their bodies decaying, missing limbs, bloated, dripping water and coated in black sand.

Spectre stood and looked up the road to the afterlife. He reached down to the Sprite sleeping next to him, plucking a stick of deodorant out of his pocket. “OK,” he sighed. “If we’re going together, y’all gonna need this.”

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Rest

“Bruv, I’m gonna crash here tonight,” sighed Spectre sitting down against a wall.

“Sure thing, man, I’ll keep watch,” said Sprite.

“Didn’t you once work as a security guard?” asked Spectre.

“Yeah, my boss told me to watch the office all night,” remarked Sprite. “I must have seen every episode a hundred times, and I still don’t know what it has to do with security.”

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Ghost Sex

“My last job was in a sperm donation clinic,” sighed Sprite.

“I knew a 500-year-old ghost who managed to get his missus pregnant,” remarked Spectre.

“So it was a phantom pregnancy?” asked Sprite.

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Litter

“I gotta take my mind off the road,” sighed Spectre. “I can’t stop looking up it.”

“I was thinking about taking a job working on the road,” sighed Sprite.

“What job are you after?” asked Spectre.

“A street cleaner,” replied Sprite. “I’m told there’s not much training involved. You just pick stuff up as you go along.”

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Smells

“Hey, Spectre,” said Sprite. “I bought a stick of deodorant the other day.”

“Why?” asked Spectre. “You don’t sweat.”

“I just wanted to see if it made me smell nicer,” sighed Sprite. “I followed the instructions, ‘remove the lid and push up bottom.”

“Well credit where it’s due,” replied Spectre, “Your farts have smelt lovely this week.”

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Motives

“I think,” said Turtle, “he’s trying to fill today’s story panel.”

“Or he wants to give people a little lift,” replied Crabs. “What did he write again?”

Turtle picked up the .png file. “Dear readers. You’re awesome, gorgeous, smart, witty and fabulous. I love y’all. Also, your arse looks nice in everything you wear.”

“You’re all wrong,” chimed in Jelly, applying some lipstick. “He’s deffo trying to get laid.”

Or I just wanted to say you’re all awesome and have lovely arses. Imagine how much better the world would be if we stopped ascribing motivations to other people.

Hey, Tumblr, I’m looking at you again!

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