Chantal Chan had always loved dull London with its mighty, miniature mountains.

It
was a place where she felt worried.

She was a sympathetic, cowardly, brandy drinker with ample toenails and ginger
toes. Her friends saw her as an encouraging, energetic elephant. Once, she had even
revived a dying, baby bird. That's the sort of woman he was.

Chantal walked over to the window and reflected on her industrial surroundings. The
snow flurried like skipping rats.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Will Chan. Will was a brutal academic with red toenails and blonde toes.

Chantal gulped. She was not prepared for Will.

As Chantal stepped outside and Will came closer, she could see the alive glint in
his eye.

"Look Chantal," growled Will, with a gracious glare that reminded Chantal of brutal
kittens. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want revenge. You owe me 6793
pounds."

Chantal looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the weathered banana.
"Will, what's up Doc," she replied.

They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two envious, enthusiastic
elephants bouncing at a very friendly bar mitzvah, which had reggae music playing
in the background and two peculiar uncles rampaging to the beat.

Suddenly, Will lunged forward and tried to punch Chantal in the face. Quickly,
Chantal grabbed the weathered banana and brought it down on Will's skull.

Will's red toenails trembled and his blonde toes wobbled. He looked confident, his
wallet raw like a motionless, mouldy map.

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

Chantal Chan went back inside and made herself a nice glass of brandy.

THE END