Love And War
By Jake Martin
Joshua Cockle looked at the weathered record in his hands and felt sad.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his creepy surroundings. He had always loved deserted Oxford with its dusty sand, very few modern amenities. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to want better for himself.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Virginia Platt. Virginia was a shy friend with wide eyes and small pointy nose.
Joshua gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a lovable, a little rude, whisky drinker with brown-ish eyes and ginger colored hair. His friends saw him as an abundant, alert guy. Once, he had even saved a hurt blind person that was stuck in a storm drain.
But not even a lovable person who had once saved a hurt blind person that was stuck in a storm drain, was prepared for what Virginia had in store today.
He could see she was up to something wicked, making Josh very un-easy. As Joshua stepped outside and Virginia came closer, he could see the rabblesnatching glint in her eye. Virginia gazed with the affection of cats. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I have to go fight." Joshua looked back, even more angry and still fingering the weathered record. "Virginia, I am done with you and your wicked fucked up way," he replied.
They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two war commanders ready to kill each other and the people who stood behind them. Joshua studied Virginia's wide eyes and pointy nose. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Joshua in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't feel like fighting."
Virginia looked angry, her emotions raw like a squiggled, spewmungous sandwich.
Joshua could actually hear Virginia's emotions shatter into 4371 pieces. Then the cowardly friend hurried away into the distance.
Not even a shot of whisky and a joint would calm Joshua's nerves tonight.