Sunday I spotted an elephant destroying my cabbage garden so I shot the monster dead. Moments later, six clowns in midget cars bumped onto my lawn. They were armed with rainbow parasols.
“I’ve had this dream,” my wife said.
I cocked my rifle. “How’s it end?”
“Not good,” she said.
Over the years Bob Thurber’s work has received a long list of awards and prizes. His most recent book is a collection of brief stories titled “Nothing But Trouble”. Visit BobThurber.net.
It seemed like they were made for each other, the boy and his elephant.
They ate, played, and slept together. They worked, lazed about, and made friends together.
They rode on each other’s backs and washed one another with their trunks.
They were almost indistinguishable, the elephant and his boy.
This story is based on a title suggested by @salmir.
The C-12 Huron transport plane climbed, climbed, climbed, then evened out.
“This is crazy. Why are we doing this?” said Rick.
“Research, man, research. Science and stuff.”
The nervous elephants trumpeted and stomped in place.
Rick shook his head. “We ain’t in no Disney movie!”
“That’s why they’re wearing parachutes.”
For this story, I asked my family to suggest two nouns and a verb. My father suggested elephant, parachute, and stomp.