|
Post by EvKem on Nov 11, 2014 4:12:33 GMT
Little Timmy launched his head up from his pillow. It was Christmas morning, and at 7 O'Clock. He jumped out of bed, heart racing, and rushed into his pajamas. He ran to his parents' door and knocked. He said aloud; "Mom! Dad! Come on! It's Christmas!" "Oh, Timmy." Mother moaned. "Go open your stocking, and we'll be out in a minute." Timmy ran down the hall and into the wood-floored living room. He gently but hurriedly lifted his stuffed stocking down from the fireplace. It was a gas stove, but sh*t, Santa's magic, so whatever. Little Timmy dumped the contents of the stocking onto the cold cement of the hearth. He lifted up the small dragon doll. It felt very soft, and was red. Timmy loved the dragon! After looking through the other stocking gifts, his parents walked down the hallway in thier rough robes. Timmy thought they felt like towels. They made coffee, and Timmy positioned himself in front of the tree, leaving his stocking candies and knick-knacks upon the hearth. As Timmy and his family went on celebrating, the gas stove continued to run. It had gone out during the night, but was still spurting gasoline into the air. Timmy's father saw it was off. Shivering in his borderline sandpaper robe, he walked over and lit the gas stove.
The house exploded. Rubble and debris flew everywhere. Christmas day, for this family, was a day of death.
In the ruins. the red dragon plushie sat. Surrounded by singes and flames. Timmy loved the dragon.
Merry Christmas.
|
|
|
Post by [Owner] Drago on Nov 12, 2014 23:28:30 GMT
Wow, what a plot twist.
|
|