It was dark outside when Donald answere the door. She had said she would be there at 6 o clock but now it was more like 9.00. She was somewhat troubled and asked if she could stay for a while to chill out.

For a moment he thought she might be stealing... or - he thought she was just thinking of it.. But she didn't seem quite as psychotic as most of the people he'd met latelty so he started to weep (silently) as this surely brought to him a memory of his dead mother, smothered and shamelessly put in huge pile of bum wipe..

Donald made a living nowadays as a cat. Dirty litte, you know. (but wait, what about her? She made it as a ad account in McCann. (shit) )

.............

She spent days trailing around after him, collecting video footage for her net site and listening to stories about the time Shiela Tequilla and he had "been too much for Naples".

The pantomime developed loosely around the tale of Cinderella. Donald was Donald, the Prince was a depressive type., the Sista a schizo and Buttons a n artist.

It all went well until the night of the performance, when, after drinking the free vodka, Donald died.

She died, too.

and the hotel fire alarm went off at 5.00am in the morning. They all looked dog rough, except for Donald who had matching blue cotton Pyjamas.

They never found out "who done it" but they died. And after that they found who it was. ( B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b...)