Owen owed his
overbite to his
Oracle Grandmother,
Ophelia. Dr.
Orson, Owen's odd orthodontist, objected to the
ordinary. Owen's opulent orthodontia were
occupied with
opals and
obsidian. Olive observed Owen, obscure in his
oblique oddness. He was
original. He
occupied her mind. She was
obsessed and
obliged to make an
overture. He was
oblivious, obtuse. So
Olive offered him an
objective observation. “Your
originality is
outstanding! Join me in an
occasional offering at the
ocean, won't you?”
Owen ogled Olive. Olives ocular adornments were as
outrageous as his
orthodontics. There was a faint
odor of oranges: a good
omen.
[A drabble is a story in exactly 100 words]
Published on April 17, 2015 00:00