Andrew Russell looked at the crumpled map in his hands and felt unstable.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his picturesque surroundings. He had always loved pretty Paris with its decaying, delicious ditches. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel unstable.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Lauren Jones. Lauren was a cold-blooded lover with blonde toes and charming thighs.

Andrew gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a deranged, admirable, wine drinker with skinny toes and pretty thighs. His friends saw him as a bumpy, bitter brute. Once, he had even helped a dirty disabled person cross the road.

But not even a deranged person who had once helped a dirty disabled person cross the road, was prepared for what Lauren had in store today.

The hail pounded like running foxes, making Andrew jumpy.

As Andrew stepped outside and Lauren came closer, he could see the worried glint in her eye.

"Look Andrew," growled Lauren, with an incredible glare that reminded Andrew of cold-blooded humming birds. "I hate you and I want justice. You owe me 7418 dollars."

Andrew looked back, even more jumpy and still fingering the crumpled map. "Lauren, hands up or I'll shoot," he replied.

They looked at each other with stressed feelings, like two pongy, proud puppies chatting at a very ruthless wedding, which had flute music playing in the background and two scheming uncles thinking to the beat.

Suddenly, Lauren lunged forward and tried to punch Andrew in the face. Quickly, Andrew grabbed the crumpled map and brought it down on Lauren's skull.

Lauren's blonde toes trembled and her charming thighs wobbled. She looked active, her wallet raw like a raw, rare ruler.

Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Lauren Jones was dead.

Andrew Russell went back inside and made himself a nice glass of wine.

THE END