Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“I saw a doctor the other week because I thought I was a bridge,” said Whisp.
“Oh aye,” replied Yuffie.
“He said ‘good grief, man what’s come over you?'” said Whisp.
“Oh God,” said Yuffie.
“I said two cars, a truck and a coach,” grinned Whisp.
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“I think you should ask the doctor for a second opinion,” said Cloud.
“I did,” replied Sprite.
“What did he say?” asked Cloud.
“Come back tomorrow,” sighed Sprite.
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“Of course,” said Glen, climbing out of the chest.
He looked at the diminutive form. This child with such a sweet smile, pale skin, red lips, and a voice so sharp it could cut steel.
“Shall we play again?” asked the child.
Glen nodded. “Yes, lets.”
Well, what else could he do?
“My doctor was hopeless,” moaned Sprite.
“Why so?” asked Black Fish.
“I went to him because I had wind,” said Sprite.
“And?” asked Black Fish.
“He gave me a kite,” sighed Sprite.
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“I went to a psychiatrist once,” said Bush.
“Why’s that?” asked Shrub.
“Because I thought I was a dog,” said Bush.
“What happened?” asked Shrub.
“Well I got there, and she told me to sit on the couch so we could talk about it,” said Bush. “I said I couldn’t because I wasn’t allowed on the furniture…”
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“I think I’m developing a drinking problem,” said Snake.
“Oh aye?” asked Grass.
“Do you drink a lot?” asked Sky.
“No,” sighed Snake. “I spill most of it. That’s the problem!”
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Butcher slammed his cleaver into the board.
“I understand,” he rasped. “I was never meant to see inside.”
Deliveryman nodded. “Well, I’m sorry you did.”
Butcher handed Deliveryman the scissors.
Deliveryman grinned. Tongue on sale tomorrow.
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“Just been to see the doctor,” sighed Cloud.
“Oh dear,” said Forest. “What’s your problem?”
“I’m suffering from severe deja vu,” replied Cloud.
“What did the doctor say?” asked Forest.
Cloud sighed. “‘Didn’t I see you yesterday?'”
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“It’s odd though,” said Stephi. “Not one other child.”
“Maybe trick or treat just isn’t a thing in English villages,” replied Dean.
They ushered their offspring to the next house. Knocking on the door, calling a cheerful “trick or treat!”
The door creaked open, revealing a trail of blood to a pile of empty sweet wrappers, waiting to be filled.
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“Every time I do an Internet search for my symptoms, it says I have cancer,” moaned Spectre.
“What symptoms?” asked Sprite.
“Running nose,” sighed Spectre.
“Is that it?” asked Sprite.
“It’s been running for four days,” grumbled Spectre. “How do I stop my nose running?”
“Have you tried tripping it up?” asked Yuffie.
~
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Little Fears 