All that remains is for TJ to post her funny story...
*waits patiently*
Well, when I said funny... I mean... OK, the other half laughed, but... and it's not in Ursa's class...
Some Like It... Furry?
He adored her. She knew that. Worse, she now realised the strength of her own feelings for him. It was painful. Ludicrous. It had to end.
She took a deep breath and began the transformation – teeth lengthened, ears pricked, snout grew, fur appeared.
“I can’t marry you,” she said, her voice a deep growl. “I’m not human.”
He smiled, oblivious.
“Well,” he said, “nobody’s perfect.”
(This is a story Parson is unlikely to get, as I know he isn't au fait with films, and since the punchline is dependent on knowing the end of one particular film... googling the first three words of the title might help, and then catching YouTube for the final minute.)
And my other one, for all writers who perhaps inhabit their characters a little too much...
“Where do you get your ideas from?”
By day – rich, acclaimed, honoured – she wrote her stories,
his stories. By night...
“You’re just a figment, my creation,” she whispered, as hungry lips burned her skin. “You don’t exist outside my mind.”
“Then what is this?”
Her body flamed at his caress.
“My... imagination.”
He laughed.
Later, as she lay exhausted, he spoke more of his life, his undeath. As dawn broke, he left her.
Later still – tired, elated – she remembered... and she wrote.
(An alternative title for this one is "Just don't make me sparkly..."
