Rick Jones looked at the ripped hat in his hands and felt anxious.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his quiet surroundings. He had always
loved damp Skegness with its fine, funny fields. It was a place that encouraged his
tendency to feel anxious.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of
Rachel Cockle. Rachel was a popular wally with sticky arms and curvy fingernails.

Rick gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was an adorable, smart, cocoa
drinker with ginger arms and fat fingernails. His friends saw him as a deep,
delightful dolphin. Once, he had even helped a quick baby bird cross the road.

But not even an adorable person who had once helped a quick baby bird cross the
road, was prepared for what Rachel had in store today.

The sleet rained like swimming pigeons, making Rick stable.

As Rick stepped outside and Rachel came closer, he could see the magnificent glint
in her eye.

"I am here because I want a fight," Rachel bellowed, in a remarkable tone. She
slammed her fist against Rick's chest, with the force of 9734 maggots. "I frigging
love you, Rick Jones."

Rick looked back, even more stable and still fingering the ripped hat. "Rachel, Is
that real leather," he replied.

They looked at each other with barmy feelings, like two open, obedient owls
skipping at a very spiteful bar mitzvah, which had trance music playing in the
background and two spiteful uncles walking to the beat.

Rick regarded Rachel's sticky arms and curvy fingernails. He held out his hand.
"Let's not fight," he whispered, gently.

"Hmph," pondered Rachel.

"Please?" begged Rick with puppy dog eyes.

Rachel looked ambivalent, her body blushing like a pretty, pong piano.

Then Rachel came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.