Fred Randall looked at the damp book in his hands and felt angry. He walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved crowded Truro with its obedient, obnoxious oceans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel angry. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jenny Ferguson. Jenny was a loving author with pink toenails and skinny fingernails. Fred gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a lovable, peculiar, beer drinker with wide toenails and pink fingernails. His friends saw him as a bad, bored brute. Once, he had even brought a motionless disabled person back from the brink of death. But not even a lovable person who had once brought a motionless disabled person back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Jenny had in store today. The sleet rained like running blue bottles, making Fred surprised. As Fred stepped outside and Jenny came closer, he could see the dusty glint in her eye. Jenny gazed with the affection of 8628 optimistic annoyed aardvarks. She said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a wifi code." Fred looked back, even more surprised and still fingering the damp book. "Jenny, what a spiffing dress," he replied. They looked at each other with sparkly feelings, like two faithful, fat foxes sitting at a very gentle wedding, which had jazz music playing in the background and two virtuous uncles bopping to the beat. Suddenly, Jenny lunged forward and tried to punch Fred in the face. Quickly, Fred grabbed the damp book and brought it down on Jenny's skull. Jenny's pink toenails trembled and her skinny fingernails wobbled. She looked ecstatic, her emotions raw like a massive, muddy map. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Jenny Ferguson was dead. Fred Randall went back inside and made himself a nice drink of beer.
I’m done working for the year so now it’s time to drink and be depressed because another year gone by