Steve Greenway was thinking about Sally Khan again. Sally was a bold do gooder with wide eyes and tall lips.

Steve walked over to the window and reflected on his old-fashioned surroundings. He had always loved creepy Amsterdam with its obnoxious, ordinary oceans. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel sleepy.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a bold figure of Sally Khan.

Steve gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a malicious, deranged, port drinker with brown eyes and hairy lips. His friends saw him as a gloopy, grieving giant. Once, he had even helped a rich toddler recover from a flying accident.

But not even a malicious person who had once helped a rich toddler recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Sally had in store today.

The hail pounded like jogging monkeys, making Steve angry. Steve grabbed a spotty piano that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Steve stepped outside and Sally came closer, he could see the salty glint in her eye.

"I am here because I want Revenge," Sally bellowed, in a brutal tone. She slammed her fist against Steve's chest, with the force of 7555 guppies. "I frigging hate you, Steve Greenway."

Steve looked back, even more angry and still fingering the spotty piano. "Sally, get out of my house," he replied.

They looked at each other with delighted feelings, like two mashed, melodic monkeys dancing at a very special snow storm, which had jazz music playing in the background and two articulate uncles rampaging to the beat.

Steve studied Sally's wide eyes and tall lips. Eventually, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you Revenge," he explained, in pitying tones.

Sally looked sleepy, her body raw like a knowledgeable, knobby knife.

Steve could actually hear Sally's body shatter into 112 pieces. Then the bold do gooder hurried away into the distance.

Not even a glass of port would calm Steve's nerves tonight.

THE END