"I owe you? Just what is that supposed to mean?" Tiffany gave Rotter a very pointed look. His hand gripped her wrist firmly as he pulled her along. He didn't bother to comment--he just kept walking. Tiffany knew it was useless to hit him again.
"Okay, I admit, I destroyed your house...and your belongings...and now you're homeless..." she paused to consider things.
Actually, Tiffany began to think of the 'pros' of having a man in the house. He could reach things at the top of the cabinets, lift heavy furniture and do the gardening. She smiled at the thought of making him parade around in nothing but a pair of jeans, slathered in body oil and glistening like a shiny new toy. He'd make for some good entertainment after all the trouble he'd caused. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.
"Okay, fine!" she pouted, pretending to be offended. No need to scare him off right away. Hmm...she thought to herself...maybe I'll buy him a skimpy little outfit to show him off in front of my guests.
Walking quietly behind Rotter, Tiffany would always fondly remember the acrid smell of burned rubble and sweaty flesh. Maybe they'd kill one another, maybe not. For now she was tired, badly in need of a shower and couldn't wait to make Rotter dust the top of the cabinets she couldn't reach.
Was it going to be a little slice of heaven, or a trip to hell? Who knows. Still...it's got to be better than living with the Wombles!
The End??
