Work Text:
Arthur Kirkland was thinking about Alfred Jones again. Alfred was a brutal gamer with red lips and skinny thighs.
Arthur walked over to the window and reflected on his urban surroundings. He had always hated dull New York with its prickly, perfect parks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel irritable.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a brutal figure of Alfred Jones.
Arthur gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a predatory, smart, tea drinker with feathery lips and pink thighs. His friends saw him as an aggressive, afraid author. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for an attractive kitten.
But not even a predatory person who had once made a cup of tea for an attractive kitten, was prepared for what Alfred had in store today.
The snow flurried like chatting gerbils, making Arthur sleepy. Arthur grabbed a solid hat that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.
As Arthur stepped outside and Alfred came closer, he could see the warty glint in his eye.
"I am here because I want freedom," Alfred bellowed, in a vile tone. He slammed his fist against Arthur's chest, with the force of 8516 dogs. "I frigging hate you, Arthur Kirkland."
Arthur looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the solid hat. "Alfred, what a spiffing dress," he replied.
They looked at each other with shocked feelings, like two kind, knotty kittens loving at a very down to earth birthday party, which had classical music playing in the background and two controlling uncles drinking to the beat.
Arthur studied Alfred's red lips and skinny thighs. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you freedom," he explained, in pitying tones.
Alfred looked surprised, his body raw like a knobby, kooky kettle.
Arthur could actually hear Alfred's body shatter into 4394 pieces. Then the brutal gamer hurried away into the distance.
Not even a cup of tea would calm Arthur's nerves tonight.