Long ago his juices had dried up, petered out, vanished, threw themsleves up a wall in an attempt to beat the swearfilter.

Died.

Yet he was here, a ghost from a post-nuclear past. All resplendant in his pink fluffy slippers, cigarette perched on his fingers like a Dot Cotton wannabe.

Wannabe.

Spice up your life.

Bad stuff.

He wondered if he could get tippex for his brain, maybe enough for everyone else.

Reunion?

Bloody reuinion?

Flush it away, bury them with their ilk, leave them to stink in obscurity. BURN THEM.

He'd run out of drink, he'd made up some beginning. Searching.

Hey... 134 posts in 30 days... what the hell?

Guess Bingo wasn't such a bad idea. He put the cigarette out, right on Geri's face. The photo burnt inwards in a strange crumpled motion. Satisfying.

He set the mercury switch timer, boxed it up and went down the post office to do the world a service. He got to the door, turned, posted his message on the forum and was gone.

For tonight is the night when five become none.