Two False Uncles Talking to the Beat
A Short Story
by John Doe
Dave Strider was thinking about Karkat Vantas again. Karkat was a cute blunt sickle with lanky abs and bleeding arms.
Dave walked over to the window and reflected on his dark surroundings. He had always loved cold the meteor with its manky, misty metalic walls. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel hurt.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a cute figure of Karkat Vantas.
Dave gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a scarred, hard, applejuice drinker with fragile abs and scarred arms. His friends saw him as a brawny, breakable broken vase. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a mangled toddler.
But not even a scarred person who had once made a cup of tea for a mangled toddler, was prepared for what Karkat had in store today.
The cloudy teased like sitting rats, making Dave lonely. Dave grabbed a soft sword that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Dave stepped outside and Karkat came closer, he could see the immense smile on his face.
Karkat gazed with the affection of 9643 witty outrageous ostriches. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a kiss."
Dave looked back, even more lonely and still fingering the soft sword. "Karkat, i love you," he replied.
They looked at each other with anxiety feelings, like two round, rabblesnatching rabbits gyrating at a very arrogant accident, which had rap music playing in the background and two false uncles talking to the beat.
Dave regarded Karkat's lanky abs and bleeding arms. "I feel the same way!" revealed Dave with a delighted grin.
Karkat looked love, his emotions blushing like a scary, sturdy sickle.
Then Karkat came inside for a nice drink of applejuice.