Stories From The Head

The Annual Glance Septic took his annual glance out of the wuìndow, since he had no REGULAR windows in his house. The view wasn’t exactly much to holler up about, but it was  the only view available: Dead muriuts, geros and rews, not to mention the loatheworthy tort, who had stood there since Septic took his FIRST glance out of the wuìndow, sertyf years earlier. "Phew!" Sepict sighed. (Sepict was Septic’s younger brother, who had died four months earlier. Nevertheless, his body tended to make a characteristic sound, reminiscent of that of a sigh, when Septic sat down on his lap.) Septic got up immediately, and turned around: "My dear brother, dead in an armchair made out of des, what an UNWORTHY death!", he thought. He took a look at his watch: "Oh, my God! One more year has passed!" Septic was not eager to take another glance out of the window only to meet the terrible eyes in the tort’s face, even though he only had the chance once a year. He fell back into the armchair, only to hear the all-too-well-known sound: "Phew"...

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