Oswald James had always loved sleepy Hoogwats with its harsh, handsome houses. It was a place where he felt happy.
He was a caring, friendly, cocoa drinker with wide hands and brunette thighs. His friends saw him as a defiant, difficult doctor. Once, he had even jumped into a river and saved a fat disabled person. That's the sort of man he was.
Oswald walked over to the window and reflected on his snooty surroundings. The drizzle rained like singing giraffes.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Toby Hawkins. Toby was a splendid gamer with pointy hands and vast thighs.
Oswald gulped. He was not prepared for Toby.
As Oswald stepped outside and Toby came closer, he could see the damaged smile on her face.
"Look Oswald," growled Toby, with a noble glare that reminded Oswald of splendid snakes. "I hate you and I want a wifi code. You owe me 5262 euros."
Oswald looked back, even more, ambivalent and still fingering the silver kettle. "Toby, I am your grandmother," he replied.
They looked at each other with ambivalent feelings, like two dark, dead dogs jumping at a very thoughtful birthday party, which had flute music playing in the background and two intelligent uncles eating to the beat.
Suddenly, Toby lunged forward and tried to punch Oswald in the face. Quickly, Oswald grabbed the silver kettle and brought it down on Toby's skull.
Toby's pointy hands trembled and her vast thighs wobbled. She looked sparkly, her wallet raw like a panicky, prickly piano.
Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Toby Hawkins was dead.
Oswald James went back inside and made himself a nice mug of cocoa.
THE END
I am a writer