A ray of sunshine slanting through the window hit Allen’s face and woke him up from a long night’s sleep. He rubbed his eyes, yawned and stretched his arms.
His right arm tapped something in the bed next to him, something hard. He looked to his right to see a five-foot bug lying on its back in bed next to him. The thing’s six skinny bug legs stuck up in the air, writhing helplessly. A long, feathery antenna stroked Allen’s arm.
Allen leaped out of bed.
“Damn it, Joan,” he yelled, “have you been reading Kafka again?!”
THE END
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
Ha! I was thinking of Kafka before the punch line. Do I get a prize? :-)
Yes, your prize is you have to read "The Trial" by Kafka.
Me thinks you would be a vicious teacher.
They should make the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay read Kafka. They'd be crying out for a return to waterboarding.
And if one of them wouldn't break over Kafka, they should try reading Gertrude Stein.
I'd almost feel sorry for the beggars. Almost.
Post a Comment