Tristan Giantbulb looked at the warped newspaper in his hands and felt relaxed.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his cold surroundings. He had always loved cosy Newton Abbot with its tight, tasteless tunnels. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel relaxed.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Tony Noris. Tony was a special deity with fragile moles and dirty moles.
Tristan gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a callous, cowardly, squash drinker with wobbly moles and fluffy moles. His friends saw him as an alert, alive animal. Once, he had even saved a silky baby flamingo that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a callous person who had once saved a silky baby flamingo that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Tony had in store today.
The wind blew like talking cats, making Tristan sleepy.
As Tristan stepped outside and Tony came closer, he could see the grumpy smile on his face.
Tony gazed with the affection of 9622 kind faffdorking flamingos. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want justice."
Tristan looked back, even more sleepy and still fingering the warped newspaper. "Tony, yabba Dabba Doo," he replied.
They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two gifted, gorgeous goldfish walking at a very cold-blooded rave, which had indie music playing in the background and two proud uncles skipping to the beat.
Tristan studied Tony's fragile moles and dirty moles. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," began Tristan in apologetic tones, "but I don't feel the same way, and I never will. I just don't love you Tony."
Tony looked worried, his emotions raw like a raw, rough record.
Tristan could actually hear Tony's emotions shatter into 6619 pieces. Then the special deity hurried away into the distance.
Not even a beaker of squash would calm Tristan's nerves tonight.
THE END
