Greg B. Jordan had always loved old-fashioned London with its tunnels streatching for miles. It was a place where he felt in control. He was a tight-fisted, stupid, Beer drinker with solid fingers and fat toes. His friends saw him as an animal. Once, he had even brought a disabled person back from the brink of a coma just to put him in another one. That's the sort of man he was. Greg B. walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted surroundings. The rivers full of blood which once belonged to the people of london. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Alicia Blake. Alicia was a daring brute with greasy fingers and long finger nails. Greg B. gulped. He was not prepared for Alicia. As Greg B. stepped outside and Alicia came closer, he could see the tall glint in her eye. "I am here because I want $1 000 000," Alicia bellowed, in a smelly tone. She slammed her fist against Greg B.'s chest, with the force of 5957 Donkeys. "I frigging hate you, Greg B. Jordan." Greg B. looked back, even more confident and playing with his knife. "Alicia, I don't have the money," he replied. They looked at each other with with rage. Suddenly, Alicia lunged forward and tried to punch Greg B. in the face. Quickly, Greg B. grabbed the squidgy knife and brought it down on Alicia's skull. Alicia's greasy fingers trembled and her ugly toes wobbled. She looked irritable, her body raw like a striped, super sandwich. Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Alicia Blake was dead. Greg B. Jordan went back inside and made himself a nice drink of Beer.
THE END
