Short Horror Stories pt 2 

The dog shits and I have no bags. 

Dad drinks all of the diet coke and I am forced to mix Malibu with flavoured water.

I’m nominated for a 5K.

I discover cashmere tracksuits and know what I am destined to spend my life wearing. 

The cat knocks down my photo frame and I step on it. 

We feed the cat new food and she gasses the room frequently. 

ANOTHER WATER BRIEF. 

I decide to take on extra work and regretti spaghetti it instantly. 

There are no chicken nuggets (own brand) on Ocado. 

Nor is there any sparking water, an essential. 

Laptop screens give me headaches. 

I break the only good wooden spoon on my new non stick pan when cheering for the NHS. 

Turns out my phone case is filthy. 

Dad buys a rowing machine. 

Dad won’t let me get a quarantine puppy which is weird cause this would be the best time to get one. 

Bulldog puppies are 4K.

Jack Russell’s actually have the least amount of health problems, ugh. 

Forgot to turn strava on when embarking on my daily walk so I have nothing to gloat about. 

My birthday salted caramels are now 12 days late. 

Charlotte Tillbury pillow talk comes up brown on me. 

I look for a fight, any fight. 

The cat does not love me. 

Marc gets a fucking puppet. 

I dream of a man kidnapping children and slicing them down the genitals and filling them up with sawdust. 

I dream of getting in a taxi but realising I have no money or card to pay with so this journey is limited to 3 pound coins. 

I wake myself up sleep talking to someone who is in my room. Often. 

It’s sausages for lunch.

I come to terms with the fact that I may never be a Victoria’s Secret Model. 

I turn 24. 

The whole bottle of tequila went in like 3 days. 

My boyfriend decides to play the stock market. 

Rosso Pomodoro pizza closes even for delivery!!!

Everyone wants to zoom me. 

I SNAP THE WIRE BEHIND MY TEETH ON EASTER SUNDAY. 

I am not an emergency so there is nothing I can do about it. 

It catches on my food and in order to eat a burger, I must shove it to the back of my mouth. 

People run 5K in like 22 minutes. 

I need a wee when out on a dog walk. 

The street Whatsapp group spreads fake news. 

If I am to fix my overbite I need 2 teeth removed and 24 months in braces. 

Dream of my ex, again. 

Everyone gives entirely conflicting advice. 

0 motivation. 

I don’t manage to write 500 words for this scab.