It was late when Block returned, staggering through the door in a beery stench of humiliation and defeat. The lamp was off.

“Nico,” he called, fumbling noisily across the room in the darkness. “It’s me. Your king. Your master. Wake up!”

“Oh Nicodemus,” came the voice from the tank. A soft silken voice, new and yet familiar. “You are naughty.”

With a crash and a clatter, as a pile of books and half-empty Pringles cans fell to the floor, Block switched on the lamp. There they were his creature and his creature, huddled together in the brown curled cress, a picture of connubial bliss.

“Nicodemus,” he belched. “I am your king. You will obey.”

“Nicodemus is happy, so very happy.”

“No. No. They’re nothing but trouble, Nico. They’re all the same. Trust me, it’ll end in tears.”

“Oh Edana,” sighed Nicodemus, nuzzling the soft bald patch beneath the stump of her left ear.

“Oh Nico,” she giggled. “You are naughty.”

Block stood watching them for a moment, swaying lightly on the spot, seemingly hypnotised by their happiness, their hideousness. He thought of the girl - who he had been stupid enough to think might be his girl ­- with her long hair and lying blue eyes.

“My little fiery one,” crooned the creature.

He thought of the girl’s new man with his silly swagger and clever talk.

“My Nico,” sighed the other.

He remembered how she had giggled and gushed, a flick of hair and a flash of too-white teeth. A drink, a dance and she was gone. They were all the same, he saw that now. Block picked up a pillow from the bed.

“You are naughty.”

“Oh Edana.”

“I am your king,” cried Block, staring angrily down at the pair of them. So hideous. So happy. Where was the justice in that?

The end was ridiculously easy. The star-studded blue sky lifted. Blinding light. And then darkness.

.