The Cursed Teapot
A Short Story
by The Invisible Man

Harry Sach looked at the cursed teapot in his hands and felt jumpy.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his wild surroundings. He had always loved pretty Dallas, Texas with its jittery, jealous jungle. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel jumpy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Hyman Berston. Hyman was a virtuous painter with squat spots and fluffy toenails.

Harry gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an optimistic, wild, whiskey drinker with charming spots and ruddy toenails. His friends saw him as a damp, deadly doctor. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a mammoth deaf person.

But not even an optimistic person who had once made a cup of tea for a mammoth deaf person, was prepared for what Hyman had in store today.

The clouds danced like partying maggots, making Harry sleepy.

As Harry stepped outside and Hyman came closer, he could see the broken smile on his face.

Hyman gazed with the affection of 2145 sympathetic handsome humming birds. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want some more Facebook friends."

Harry looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the cursed teapot. "Hyman, I want your boobs," he replied.

They looked at each other with afraid feelings, like two kooky, kaleidoscopic kittens loving at a very mean Christening, which had orchestral music playing in the background and two sweet uncles running to the beat.

Harry regarded Hyman's squat spots and fluffy toenails. "I feel the same way!" revealed Harry with a delighted grin.

Hyman looked relaxed, his emotions blushing like a narrow, nasty newspaper.

Then Hyman came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.

THE END

Thanks for reading,
The Invisible Man
@theinvisibleman