A kiss with a fist.

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Plam Malp had always loved cosy Atlantic Ocean with its muddy, modern mountains. It was a place where he felt lonely.

He was an admirable, charming, tea drinker with fragile legs and charming eyes. His friends saw him as a comfortable, careful coward. Once, he had even revived a dying, blind person. That's the sort of man he was.

Plam walked over to the window and reflected on his sleepy surroundings. The sun shone like sitting goldfish.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Squid Kid. Squid was a loving lover with slimy legs and pink eyes.

Plam gulped. He was not prepared for Squid.

As Plam stepped outside and Squid came closer, he could see the outstanding smile on his face.

Squid gazed with the affection of 465 energetic gentle guppies. He said, in hushed tones, "I love you and I want a phone number."

Plam looked back, even more fuzzy and still fingering the squidgy book. "Squid, I love you," he replied.

They looked at each other with jumpy feelings, like two flaky, freshly-squeezed frogs swimming at a very gentle tea party, which had piano music playing in the background and two cute uncles loving to the beat.

Suddenly, Squid lunged forward and tried to punch Plam in the face. Quickly, Plam grabbed the squidgy book and brought it down on Squid's skull.

Squid's slimy legs trembled and his pink eyes wobbled. He looked relaxed, his emotions raw like a kaleidoscopic, klutzy kettle.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Squid Kid was dead.

Plam Malp went back inside and made himself a nice cup of tea.

THE END

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