Shane McCallister had always loved wild Liverpool with its faffdorking, flat

fields. It was a place where he felt calm.

He was a popular, selfish, whiskey drinker with fat spots and ginger eyebrows. His
friends saw him as a kindhearted, kaleidoscopic knight. Once, he had even saved a
flipping puppy that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Shane walked over to the window and reflected on his dull surroundings. The clouds
danced like shouting owls.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Boris Randall. Boris was a selfish animal with ruddy spots and pink eyebrows.

Shane gulped. He was not prepared for Boris.

As Shane stepped outside and Boris came closer, he could see the spilt smile on his
face.

"I am here because I want equality," Boris bellowed, in a ruthless tone. He slammed
his fist against Shane's chest, with the force of 4537 elephants. "I frigging love
you, Shane McCallister."

Shane looked back, even more active and still fingering the silver ruler. "Boris,
beam me up Scotty," he replied.

They looked at each other with stable feelings, like two thankful, tight toads
chatting at a very creepy rave, which had drum and bass music playing in the
background and two hopeful uncles dancing to the beat.

Shane regarded Boris's ruddy spots and pink eyebrows. He held out his hand. "Let's
not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Boris.

"Please?" begged Shane with puppy dog eyes.

Boris looked concerned, his body blushing like a kindly, knotty kettle.

Then Boris came inside for a nice glass of whiskey.