Crowded Plymouth

Andrew Zeus had always loved crowded Plymouth with its wonky, weak waters. It was a
place where he felt ecstatic.

He was a generous, malicious, cocoa drinker with ugly fingers and squat toes. His
friends saw him as an alert, angry academic. Once, he had even brought a
substantial kitten back from the brink of death. That's the sort of man he was.

Andrew walked over to the window and reflected on his wild surroundings. The sun
shone like singing mice.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Cuthbert Godfrey. Cuthbert was an intelligent vicar with brown fingers and fat
toes.

Andrew gulped. He was not prepared for Cuthbert.

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

"I am here because I want some more Twitter followers," Cuthbert bellowed, in a
splendid tone. He slammed his fist against Andrew's chest, with the force of 2006
humming birds. "I frigging love you, Andrew Zeus."

Andrew looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the damp banana.
"Cuthbert, oh my God they killed Kenny," he replied.

They looked at each other with calm feelings, like two defeated, decomposing
donkeys bopping at a very wild snow storm, which had flute music playing in the
background and two tight-fisted uncles chatting to the beat.

Andrew regarded Cuthbert's brown fingers and fat toes. He held out his hand. "Let's
not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Cuthbert.

"Please?" begged Andrew with puppy dog eyes.

Cuthbert looked cross, his body blushing like a gleaming, giant gun.

Then Cuthbert came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.