Mr. Penterbottom here. I was hoping to share some short stories I've been working on. (1.) A boy wanted ice cream. He threw a fit. He got ice cream. (2.) A girl leaves crying.
Now, after writing those I wondered, which one is the best story? Obviously! It's the girl who leaves crying. Why can't the boy compete? You already know everything about him. He wants ice cream. He is not tortured. He is lusting after a silly indulgence. But, the crying dame. Is she not distressed? Is it not our sworn duty to protect her? Here we're supposed to ignore flippant children. Possibly, though some do disagree, hit them when they're being too flippant. I myself am not one for hitting children, but that's only because I was, in fact, hit.
Oh anyways, back to the girl. Why did she leave crying? That's the mystery. Surely it was... heartbreak? Perhaps. As you know love can begin with a look. Well, maybe the gaze was broken. Or maybe he looked away entirely from this girl. Oh one can't always be sure when it comes to looks. Eyes are hard to follow. Why once, I was chasing a pair down alleyways and through slums in New York City. Never did catch them. I tried for days though. A glimpse here, a hint there.
Sidetracked again. That girl, the crying one. As immaterial as she was before, she became in fact a centerpiece of my life's story. She set me on my current path as it were. Let me just say, and remember this, nothing good will come of comforting a crying girl. But, as they say, "Resistance is futile." Ha-ha. Hah. Forgive me, humor from before your time.
Now, I'm off to see Bruno. Yes, I'm afraid you guessed it. He is in fact the boy who wanted ice cream. All grown up. Well, as all grown up as such a child could become.
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