Mike Jason looked at the stylish Porsche in his hands and felt astonished.
He walked over to the window and reflected on his fabulous surroundings. He had always loved windy Toronto with its calm, crowded CN Tower. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel astonished.
Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Helen Bishop. Helen was a superior Model with eyes and defined arms.
Mike gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a strong, powerful, IPA drinker with muscular eyes and tall arms. His friends saw him as an ashamed, average Agent. Once, he had even saved a squidgy labrador puppy that was stuck in a drain.
But not even a strong person who had once saved a squidgy labrador puppy that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Helen had in store today.
The snow flurried like shooting dogs, making Mike powerful.
As Mike stepped outside and Helen came closer, he could see the dirty smile on her face.
“Look Mike,” growled Helen, with an intelligent glare that reminded Mike of superior panthers. “It’s not that I don’t love you, but I want financial independence. You owe me 6438 Canadian dollars.”
Mike looked back, even more powerful and still fingering the stylish Porsche. “Helen, let’s cooperate on this one,” he replied.
They looked at each other with horny feelings, like two envious, enthusiastic elephants running at a very couraged Street Festival, which had electro swing music playing in the background and two independent uncles smashing to the beat.
Suddenly, Helen lunged forward and tried to punch Mike in the face. Quickly, Mike grabbed the stylish Porsche and brought it down on Helen’s skull.
Helen’s eyes trembled and her defined arms wobbled. She looked strong, her wallet raw like a light, large Laser Knife.
Then she let out an agonizing groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Helen Bishop was dead.
Mike Jason went back inside and made himself a nice drink of IPA. It was exactly the refreshment he was looking for in that moment.