Mavis Connor had always loved sunny Sludgeside with its gloopy, green gates. It was a place where she felt sad.
She was a tactless, clumsy, tea drinker with tall warts and charming ankles. Her friends saw her as a damaged, deadly dolphin. Once, she had even rescued a rough puppy from a burning building. That’s the sort of woman he was.
Mavis walked over to the window and reflected on her hilly surroundings. The snow flurried like jogging rats.
Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Mary Superhalk. Mary was a forgetful volcano with beautiful warts and ruddy ankles.
Mavis gulped. She was not prepared for Mary.
As Mavis stepped outside and Mary came closer, she could see the tasty smile on her face.
“Look Mavis,” growled Mary, with a creepy glare that reminded Mavis of forgetful guppies. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want Internet access. You owe me 7021 gold pieces.”
Mavis looked back, even more irritable and still fingering the ribbed rock. “Mary, Is that real leather,” she replied.
They looked at each other with relaxed feelings, like two depressed, difficult donkeys cooking at a very loving wake, which had flute music playing in the background and two grateful uncles jogging to the beat.
Suddenly, Mary lunged forward and tried to punch Mavis in the face. Quickly, Mavis grabbed the ribbed rock and brought it down on Mary’s skull.
Mary’s beautiful warts trembled and her ruddy ankles wobbled. She looked lonely, her wallet raw like a knobbly, kindhearted knife.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Mary Superhalk was dead.
Mavis Connor went back inside and made herself a nice cup of tea.THE END