“Humans are right. April is the cruelest month.”
“What’s wrong, Snagthistle?” asked Thornbriar.
“My numbers are down. You know how He gets when we don’t meet our quotas.”
“His Eminence realizes suicides and murders dip in spring. The monkeys taste hope with April’s arrival.” Thornbriar shuddered. “Wretched month!”
“My numbers were good last April.”
Thornbriar nodded. “I remember: the Ebola Spring. A bumper crop of souls!”
“I can’t make those numbers again. There’ll be hell to pay!”
Feeling moisture, Thornbriar smiled. “Cheer up, Snagthistle! It’s starting to rain!”
Snagthistle glanced up, fervently hoping that somewhere rain was falling on someone’s parade.
Word count: 100
Author’s Note: This story is written in response to the 100 Word Challenge for Grown-Ups. This week’s prompt: the word APRIL. You can find the challenge here.