The skies were dark, filled with melancholy clouds which battered rain the likes of which had never been seen. A lone shadow illuminated by brief sparks of lightning stood guard on the cliff.
Suddenly, the sky was lit up by a brilliant display of light and now two figures- George and John Hardly could be seen encircling the lone figure.
“Hey! That’s too dramatic” said Colin who was hearing the story written by his friend Arthur. “Why does it have to begin with a storm?? And please tell me that there is no magic involved.”
“Of course not” said Arthur, trying to hide the book. “Do you take me for a fool??”
“Well.... yeah! You sound like an amateur author, Arthur; as though you have read a lot of fantasy novels and think that you can also write” criticized Arthur. “And your characters: George and John hardly—hardly what???”
“That’s their name, you idiot!”
“Oh! So people call them hardly boys??” sniggered Colin.
“Hey! Stop criticizing everything. Can’t you tell me something good about it??” asked Arthur indignantly.
“Oh yes I can— it was thankfully very short.”
“You are an insensitive, lying, shameless, cruel, lying sarcastic jerk! Oh, and did I mention lying?” said Arthur, who had never taken criticism sportingly.
“Well, I suppose it was better than the last one- it was about talking lizards right?”
“Those were lizardmen from a distant planet, coming to destroy earth” sputtered Arthur, turning red with suppressed anger.
“Yeah... whatever”
~~~~~XX~~~~
This was supposed to be something else entirely and the ...er..... story was supposed to make some kind of sense. But somehow, somewhere down the line, everything went awry. The idea was
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