Boris Chen looked at the crumpled sausage in his hands and felt relaxed.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his beautiful surroundings. He had always loved magical London with its frightened, funkelplopping fields. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel relaxed.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sharon Meadows. Sharon was a remarkable coward with charming elbows and hairy spots.
Boris gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a lovable, hopeful, brandy drinker with beautiful elbows and scrawny spots. His friends saw him as a calm, cooperative coward. Once, he had even helped a foolish baby flamingo recover from a flying accident.
But not even a lovable person who had once helped a foolish baby flamingo recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Sharon had in store today.
The snow flurried like shouting humming birds, making Boris happy.
As Boris stepped outside and Sharon came closer, he could see the fried glint in her eye.
"Look Boris," growled Sharon, with a cute glare that reminded Boris of remarkable guppies. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want peace. You owe me 2406 dollars."
Boris looked back, even more happy and still fingering the crumpled sausage. "Sharon, I just don't need you in my life any more," he replied.
They looked at each other with sparkly feelings, like two anxious, alert aardvarks walking at a very giving disco, which had classical music playing in the background and two brave uncles laughing to the beat.
Boris regarded Sharon's charming elbows and hairy spots. "I don't have the funds ..." he lied.
Sharon glared. "Do you want me to shove that crumpled sausage where the sun don't shine?"
Boris promptly remembered his lovable and hopeful values. "Actually, I do have the funds," he admitted. He reached into his pockets. "Here's what I owe you."
Sharon looked confident, her wallet blushing like a horrible, happy hawk.
Then Sharon came inside for a nice glass of brandy.