The Spotty Kettle A Short Story by Random Writer Phillip Russell looked at the spotty kettle in his hands and felt sneezy. He walked over to the window and reflected on his pretty surroundings. He had always loved creepy Exeter with its unsteady, united umbrellas. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sneezy. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ruth Meadows. Ruth was a hungry knight with red fingernails and scrawny thighs.
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