roger grey's hilly glasgow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
roger grey's thinking about ruth connor, a forgetful knight with slimy legs. so begins a story in which roger says he's ruth's father, and yet says he can't give her equality...which is just what ruth wants.

Submitted: March 21, 2016

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Submitted: March 21, 2016

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Roger Grey was thinking about Ruth Connor again. Ruth was a forgetful knight with slimy legs and curvy feet.

Roger walked over to the window and reflected on his picturesque surroundings. He had always loved hilly Glasgow with its zealous, zany zoos. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sparkly.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a forgetful figure of Ruth Connor.

Roger gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a special, violent, wine drinker with beautiful legs and squat feet. His friends saw him as an average, annoying author. Once, he had even revived a dying, disabled person.

But not even a special person who had once revived a dying, disabled person, was prepared for what Ruth had in store today.

The moon shone like jumping monkeys, making Roger surprised. Roger grabbed a tiny teapot that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Roger stepped outside and Ruth came closer, he could see the hissing smile on her face.

"I am here because I want equality," Ruth bellowed, in a brave tone. She slammed her fist against Roger's chest, with the force of 6340 kittens. "I frigging love you, Roger Grey."

Roger looked back, even more surprised and still fingering the tiny teapot. "Ruth, I am your father," he replied.

They looked at each other with barmy feelings, like two grim, grisly guppies drinking at a very brutal holiday, which had piano music playing in the background and two optimistic uncles loving to the beat.

Roger studied Ruth's slimy legs and curvy feet. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you equality," he explained, in pitying tones.

Ruth looked stable, her body raw like a grated, giant gun.

Roger could actually hear Ruth's body shatter into 3818 pieces. Then the forgetful knight hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of wine would calm Roger's nerves tonight.

Maybe hilly Glasgow isn't the best place, thought Roger, because wine can't help here.


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