In the deepest, darkest, narrowest crevasse of the third-largest crater on the Moon of Everlasting Lightning was a little hamlet called Schmingleton. In Schmingleton lived seventeen people, none of whom had ever achieved anything of any note. Twelve of them were males born to the same mother. They lived in a three bedroomed semi and had no father. Some would say that their Mom, Teresa, was unlucky to have had so many immaculate conceptions. Others would say she was enlightened. Most would say she was completely irrelevant to this story, so quite frankly, who cares?

Living next door to this full to bursting house was a wiry young man called Jake. Jake hated the Teresons, as they were known in Schmingleton. They were noisy, obnoxious, riotous and vulgar. They acted like they owned the place and they made his life a misery, stealing his deliveries and banging on his front door. The Tereson's had instilled such fear into Jake that he hadn't left his house in thirteen weeks. An already skinny and underweight man was becoming a weak and frail skeleton. His emergency supply of crisps had run out three days ago and things were getting desperate. Even his routine licking of each packet was now proving fruitless, he survived solely on salted fumes.

Jake, however, was past caring. His passion for life was long gone, the Teresons had seen to that. His day to day routine of signing into internet chat-rooms, moaning about his terrible life and storming out in an attention-seeking barrage of foul-mouthed abbreviations was over. He barely had the willpower to turn his monitor off every night before bed any more.

Jake was going to end it all. There was just no point going on. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, he didn't communicate and he didn't care. He was 1000% sure this was the end of everything, and virtually everyone he virtually knew, knew it as well.

Jake's final day had been fast approaching for a long while, and today was that day.