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Guest RomanChoke

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Guest RomanChoke

Frank

It's Friday, the rain is hammering down like tiny steel arrows fired in their thousands by mirriads of warrior ants nestling in the clouds.

Dan sits in his tent, trying to keep warm, crying into his plastic action man cup full to the brim with a weak lemon drink. The camera pans out and up, the tent shrinks away and the landscape widens, it isnt apparent but our soon to be hero is the only living human for over 50 square miles. 50 square miles of cold, wet, barren hills known as the west highlands. He would indeed be the only living creature for 50 square miles if it weren't for the odd cold, wet, sheep. Oh, and the small colony of genital crabs he picked up from a drunken encounter with one of colleagues, but more about Alan later . . .

The camera quickly zooms back into the tent, but too fast, it hits Dan in the nose who curses before passing out.

When he wakes six hours later (it was quite a big camera), he's in a dinner suit, on the moon. . . . .

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