Spike sat back and relaxed. He was perfecty at home here, in this pub. There is only one person that Spike feared, and he was sure he woudn’t turn up here.

Spike was not his real name, but he would answer to nothing else. He got his name from the way he styled his hair every day. SPIKEY . Nobody knew his real name execpt for his distant parents and maybe some old childhood friends. Sure, you could call him spikes or spikey, even the spikester, but question him about his name, and you’d have at least 9 broken fingers within the next minute.

he ran his fingers over his hair thoughtfully just as he saw marge come through the door. it came as no suprise to him that she did not look happy to him. I mean, after all he had done…

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