Naomi Barker had always loved cosy Plymouth with its jealous, jittery

jungle. It was a place where she felt worried.

She was a daring, brave, wine drinker with slimy fingers and
handsome toes. Her friends saw her as an arrogant, adventurous
animal. Once, she had even saved an awful chicken that was stuck in a
drain. That's the sort of woman he was.

Naomi walked over to the window and reflected on her sleepy

surroundings. The clouds danced like hopping donkeys.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the
figure of Gregory Greenway. Gregory was a snotty friend with greasy
fingers and wobbly toes.

Naomi gulped. She was not prepared for Gregory.

As Naomi stepped outside and Gregory came closer, she could see the
grubby glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want some more Twitter followers," Gregory

bellowed, in a popular tone. He slammed his fist against Naomi's
chest, with the force of 4221 foxes. "I frigging love you, Naomi
Barker."

Naomi looked back, even more relaxed and still fingering the
weathered book. "Gregory, exterminate," she replied.

They looked at each other with sneezy feelings, like two angry,
annoying aardvarks walking at a very daring Halloween party, which
had flute music playing in the background and two tight-fisted uncles
hopping to the beat.

Suddenly, Gregory lunged forward and tried to punch Naomi in the

face. Quickly, Naomi grabbed the weathered book and brought it
down on Gregory's skull.

Gregory's greasy fingers trembled and his wobbly toes wobbled. He

looked confident, his body raw like a rich, robust rock.
Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground.
Moments later Gregory Greenway was dead.

Naomi Barker went back inside and made herself a nice glass of wine.