Cold-blooded Harriet Raymond

Kevin DeVito looked at the enchanted hawk in his hands and felt calm.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his cosy surroundings. He had always hated deserted Upper Boggington with its amused, ancient arches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel calm.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Harriet Raymond. Harriet was a cold-blooded angel with fluffy fingers and solid arms.

Kevin gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a snooty, noble, port drinker with curvy fingers and blonde arms. His friends saw him as a jealous, jolly juggler. Once, he had even rescued a wandering baby bird from a burning building.

But not even a snooty person who had once rescued a wandering baby bird from a burning building, was prepared for what Harriet had in store today.

The moon shone like running elephants, making Kevin anxious.

As Kevin stepped outside and Harriet came closer, he could see the wet smile on her face.

"I am here because I want a kiss," Harriet bellowed, in a caring tone. She slammed her fist against Kevin's chest, with the force of 7078 tortoises. "I frigging love you, Kevin DeVito."

Kevin looked back, even more anxious and still fingering the enchanted hawk. "Harriet, what a spiffing dress," he replied.

They looked at each other with ecstatic feelings, like two kaleidoscopic, keen kittens gyrating at a very intuitive holiday, which had piano music playing in the background and two forgetful uncles swimming to the beat.

Kevin regarded Harriet's fluffy fingers and solid arms. He held out his hand. "Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Harriet.

"Please?" begged Kevin with puppy dog eyes.

Harriet looked sparkly, her body blushing like a scrawny, strange sausage.

Then Harriet came inside for a nice glass of port.