Dirty Teal

A Short Story by Bartholdi Boulde

Balentino Pitths looked at the sandwich in their hands and felt sad.

Walking over to the window, they reflected on their damp surroundings. They had always hated what they believed was a dirty part of Theale with its numerous hissing slow worms that enveloped the homely Hill tops. It was a place that encouraged their tendency to feel depressed.

Then they saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Pantonio Humble. Balentino was a loving volcano with skinny eyes and fat feet.

Pantonio gulped. They glanced at their own reflection. They were a daring, energetic, sparkling eater drinker with ugly eyes and curvaceous feet. Their friends saw them as a kind, knowing knight. Once, they had even made a cup of tea for a vacant life.

But not even a daring person who had once made a cup of tea for a vacant life, was prepared for what Antonio had in store today. Balentino watched how the sun shone and gently cooked the dogs. As Pantonio stepped outside and Balentini came closer, they could see the silent smile on their face.

"I am here because I want inheritance," Balentino bellowed, in a patient tone. They slammed their fist against Balentino's chest, with the force of 3403 rabbits. "I frigging hate you, Balentino Pitths." Balentino looked back, even more happy and still fingering the insular sandwich. "Antonio, I am not the person you are looking for and should be angry with," he replied.

They looked at each other with worried feelings, like two plastic, petite pandas running at a very sympathetic Funeral, which had reggae music playing in the background and two optimistic uncles arguing to the beat.

Balentino regarded Pantonio’s skinny eyes and fat feet. Then held out their hand. "Let's not fight," they whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Pantonio. "Please?" begged Balentino with puppy dog eyes.

Pantonio looked angry, his body blushing like a tense, teeny toothpick.

Then Pantonio came inside for a nice drink of sparkling eater.