A Case of Drabblecide

Claire was sick of his constant dribble about drabbling; they’d get up in the morning and he’d be like:

‘What would a pimple say if it could talk?’

Who’d want a fried egg sandwich after that?

It never stopped; at dinner it would be:

‘Did you ever have an imaginary friend?’

Then last thing at night he’d whisper:

‘What about a psychotic cat that flits from one perverted owner to another?’

The final straw was when he dropped this bombshell:

‘The cleaner at uni once caught me spanking the salami.’

She stabbed him through the ear with his drabble pen.