SHOPPING LIST

Nick rubbed his eyes - he'd been shooting Japs, impaling Saracens and driving a Pontiac Firebird around Las Vegas for four hours. He swigged the dregs from the can next to his monitor - warm, flat lager - and regretted doing so immediately.

He was just about to turn in for the night when he noticed the stern, glassy eyes of Martin Luther King staring at him from the fishbowl.

'Yeah, I know- you have a dream of being fed.'

Nick shook the container of 'Aquari-yum!', but not a solitary flake emerged. He noticed that Agamemnon and Tony were becoming agitated too.

Nick was lucky; he lived in a part of the city where nearly every shop was open 24 hours.  He scribbled a quick shopping list - 'FF' (for fish food), and added 'milk' to make the exercise worthwhile.  He pulled on his trainers, but then a wave of doubt came over him - the chances of making the journey to the nearest shop without being pestered, propositioned or threatened were minimal.  Worse still, he could find himself in the middle of an armed robbery or gang war.

The choice was stark - feed the fishes, or sleep with the fishes.

Martin Luther King would have to wait until daylight to fulfil his dream.