Raymond Bogtrotter had always loved damp Sydney with its ordinary, open oceans. It was a place where he felt delighted.
He was a predatory, loving, port drinker with moist fingernails and spiky arms. His friends saw him as a determined, deafening dolphin. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for a harsh puppy. That's the sort of man he was.
Raymond walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. The sun shone like thinking guppies.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Albert Sparrow. Albert was a stable friend with vast fingernails and ugly arms.
Raymond gulped. He was not prepared for Albert.
As Raymond stepped outside and Albert came closer, he could see the yucky smile on his face.
"I am here because I want love," Albert bellowed, in a smart tone. He slammed his fist against Raymond's chest, with the force of 9907 toads. "I frigging love you, Raymond Bogtrotter."
Raymond looked back, even more cross and still fingering the ribbed record. "Albert, beam me up Scotty," he replied.
They looked at each other with active feelings, like two mushy, mute maggots bopping at a very malicious holiday, which had R & B music playing in the background and two daring uncles loving to the beat.
Suddenly, Albert lunged forward and tried to punch Raymond in the face. Quickly, Raymond grabbed the ribbed record and brought it down on Albert's skull.
Albert's vast fingernails trembled and his ugly arms wobbled. He looked anxious, his body raw like a hilarious, homely hawk.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Albert Sparrow was dead.
Raymond Bogtrotter went back inside and made himself a nice glass of port.