Small Steps on the Road to Hell


“Hello? Just because I’m drinking the blood of a pig, doesn’t mean I have to live like one.”

“Spike, if you’re not in that bath by the time I count to ...”

“Clean it first.”

“What?”

“Got a ring around it, I could write my name in. S’bloody filthy. Should be ashamed of yourself. And  I’m wearing black; it’ll rub off on me. Not a zebra either.”

“Get in!”

“Won’t!”

“Clean it, and the loo, and you can have the couch.”

Later, he realised the folly of stooping to bargain. The house sparkled but Spike hogged the covers terribly.


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