Steve Sparrow looked at the ripped rock in his hands and felt puzzled.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had
always loved noisy Newton Abbot with its tasty, thankful trees. It was a place that
encouraged his tendency to feel puzzled.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Cuthbert Barker. Cuthbert was a snooty angel with spiky warts and ginger eyebrows.

Steve gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an energetic, popular, beer
drinker with pointy warts and wobbly eyebrows. His friends saw him as a vigorous,
violet vicar. Once, he had even brought a grotesque kitten back from the brink of
death.

But not even an energetic person who had once brought a grotesque kitten back
from the brink of death, was prepared for what Cuthbert had in store today.

The clouds danced like swimming puppies, making Steve ecstatic.

As Steve stepped outside and Cuthbert came closer, he could see the slobbering
glint in his eye.

"Look Steve," growled Cuthbert, with a hopeful glare that reminded Steve of snooty
badgers. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want affection. You owe me 4532
dollars."

Steve looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the ripped rock. "Cuthbert, I
ate your puppy," he replied.

They looked at each other with fuzzy feelings, like two gloopy, glamorous guppies
hopping at a very understanding carol service, which had classical music playing in
the background and two modest uncles sleeping to the beat.

Suddenly, Cuthbert lunged forward and tried to punch Steve in the face. Quickly,
Steve grabbed the ripped rock and brought it down on Cuthbert's skull.

Cuthbert's spiky warts trembled and his ginger eyebrows wobbled. He looked
ecstatic, his wallet raw like a purple, plain piano.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later
Cuthbert Barker was dead.

Steve Sparrow went back inside and made himself a nice drink of beer.

THE END