Jeff would win this trial. A big macho company versus what seemed like a corner shop in comparison. The fuss was all about copyright of course, and God certainly had a sense of humour when it came to Glenn Hodges, the owner of "Westside Motors". An employee of Whimsey Inc. had coincidentally passed by the run-down car showroom and seen a drawing of a figure protected by copyright in the smart and well-kept showroom. Of course, no-one else had any problem with it, but they couldn't milk poor Mr. Hodges for three million American dollars, instantly bankrupting him.

Jeff Burstall, Whimsey Inc.'s representative was the expert copyright lawyer. Backed with five million up front and another five for victory in this bug squash, he wasn't about to lose, quoting just about every copyright law in the book. All Mr. Hodges could afford was a local lawyer, and he knew it would do no good to fight. After all, he was only being offered five thousand up front.

At two PM, the trial officially ended and Mr. Hodges wept as any figures dropped from a green seven digits down to red few digits with a pretty minus sign. Jeff approached his lawyer with what seemed like a gloating look. "No hard feelings." he said with the same confidence he'd had all trial, shook Mr. Hodges' lawyer's hand and grinned. Mr. Hodges himself was still weeping and would have to be escorted from the court room. Jeff Burstall amused himself with a marble by throwing it upwards and catching it as he and his cocky stride left the room.

Much later that night, Jeff found himself laying down on his bed, facing the ceiling with two warm arms wrapped around him as his seed slowly trickled down his leg. "Wow, Jeff…you're so powerful after crushing someone." Felicity mutters while kissing Jeff's shaven neck. "Oh, you know." Jeff replied, "I need to vent the power out." Felicity giggled. Jeff struggled to get off the bed, "Clean up in aisle three." He said, while using his hand as a microphone and moved into the bathroom. Felicity giggled again at his crude comment and turned over to the clock which read 12:29am. She soon drifted off to Neverland (however, she'd already been flying this particular night) while Jeff had a smoke on the garden patio, not wanting to wake his love, dressed in his fluffy red robe.

Even at this time Jeff could hear traffic on the main road and see the alien glow of the streetlamps. He stood there feeling completely satisfied; wonderful, modern house, he was respected in his field and he had the woman he'd wanted since high school (not that she wanted him then; that feat goes to when he won millions from a rich employer and winning twenty-nine lawsuits in a row.) Yeah, he'd lied to get his money and gone through trickery to steal his woman (Jeff often amused himself with a thought that the victim of this theft was now living in a dumpster) but he still felt good. Who wouldn't?

Tomorrow morning, just before half past ten, Jeff was woke up by his cell phone. Only Jeff's closest associates usually called him on his cell phone but what he was no receiving was an unknown number. Probably just Gary's work phone he thought. Gary was Jeff's new best friend since he found his millions, and he was probably looking to get together for a couple of beers sometime. Jeff laughed at the thought of "a couple of beers" and answered the whining phone call.

It wasn't Gary. It was some guy from the biggest radio station which Jeff found mildly disturbing. "Is this Mr. Burstall?" it asked.

"Yes, this is Jeff Burstall. How the hell did you get my number?"

"Sorry Mr. Burstall, but we found it on your card." This thought disturbed Jeff more; he wasn't aware he had a contact card. "After yesterday's televised court reading, you've become a mild celebrity in the area for your jokes and smile. We were hoping you could join us for our talk show at five."

"I suppose…" Jeff sighed, thinking things over but in the end not giving a rat's ass.

"Brilliant. Our place is on the…"

"Yeah, yeah." Jeff interrupted and hung up. He wasn't one for politeness. They can kiss my ass later, he thought and turned over, still in bed without a shirt.

He got up half an hour later and spent the day at his local gym. He was the socialite of the gym, talking to everyone and anyone while swimming or working out. He always flirted with the barmaid too, but stayed faithful to Felicity, his personal cuddlebug. He had his usual "upmarket" spirits meaning he couldn't drive later. I don't walk around enough anyway, he thought, look at the sky, the people, everything. It was only an hour walk downtown anyway.

Around 4:30, maybe a little before, he was nearly at the radio station, not particularly in a rush. Keeping them waiting will bust ratings he amused himself. He came onto the last corner when he stopped. He could hear something. Probably just a noise in my head, he thought, and began to move on. However, he stopped again and looked behind him. What he could hear sounding like a chant. Lots of people chanting something. He walked closer to an old building he'd just walked past and began to make it out. It was saying "Twenty-nine, twenty-nine, twenty-nine…" consistently.

Why are they saying that?, he thought, and looked around the crumbly building. It got slightly louder as he went round and finally found a small hole in the brick wall. It was where most of the sound was coming from and Jeff could pick out some shadowy shapes moving around inside. They're just having a party or something, he tried to coax himself away but was drawn to the hole. Just one peek won't hurt right?

What happened next was what changed Jeff's life. First he looked into the hole, then he felt a sharp pain and he screamed. He was no longer looking through the hole; in fact, half of his vision was cut off as he felt thick blood drip down his face, off his chin and onto his suit. He crawled away, one hand clutching his now empty left eye socket, screaming for help. He heard a cheer inside the house then another chant started.

"Thirty, thirty, thirty…"