Soto had always hated cold Wraeclast with its teeny-tiny, testy tunnels. It was a place where he felt stressed.

He was a scheming, selfish, brandy drinker with spiky fingers and wide thighs. His friends saw him as a shaggy, shiny scammer. Once, he had even helped a faithful baby kiwi cross the road. That's the sort of man he was.

Soto walked over to the window and reflected on his deprived surroundings. The hail pounded like gyrating foxes.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Joey . Joey was a creepy muppet with chubby fingers and scrawny thighs.

Soto gulped. He was not prepared for Joey.

As Soto stepped outside and Joey came closer, he could see the breezy smile on his face.

"I am here because I want exalted orbs," Joey bellowed, in a virtuous tone. He slammed his fist against Soto's chest, with the force of 9838 wolves. "I frigging hate you, Soto ."

Soto looked back, even more ecstatic and still fingering the cursed guillotine. "Joey, I don't have the money," he replied.

They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two loose, large lizards shouting at a very sympathetic accident, which had drum and bass music playing in the background and two articulate uncles running to the beat.

Suddenly, Joey lunged forward and tried to punch Soto in the face. Quickly, Soto grabbed the cursed guillotine and brought it down on Joey's skull.

Joey's chubby fingers trembled and his scrawny thighs wobbled. He looked pale and shocked.

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

Soto went back inside and made himself a nice glass of hot chocolate.