Friday, Saturday, Rudy and me went for a walk in the park, very pleasant I must say.
Suddenly a large and unpleasant-looking man appeared in front of us and shouted at us. It was the Fatland ambassador. He waved a pistol at Friday and Saturday. “You killed the President of Fatland, didn’t you?” His English was no better than his Spanish. “You killed all the deputies, didn’t you?”
Friday said a few words to Saturday. “He must shoot his prey and eat it.”
He turned to his right and fired all six rounds into a flowerbed. He kneeled on the ground and ate the soil in the flowerbed. After five minutes of gorging on earth and roses he keeled over and lay motionless.
“Very odd, officer. He ate the flowerbed and now is no more.”
The policeman who had been attracted to the scene, it’s not every day that you hear six gunshots one after another, took notes.
On the way home I told Friday and Saturday that they hadn’t killed the President of Fatland and all the deputies – it hasn’t happened yet.