4th March, 1994
The light became dim as Anja went deeper into the tunnel and became a special silence. The dale above was sprinkled with stars. As the previous and apocryphal sentence was read, Patrick died, and it was a very slow descent into a shameless introspection.
Emily Dickinson would not have thought of death so much, especially with a knife in her throat. As the llama attacked, Robert dashed off, but there was no time to pull a glass of wine, nor to bake a chick-pea curry and put the uneaten greatest portion into the compost bin. The compost sprang to life, and with a maniacal cry took heed of life's erect resurrection and killed the felonious carpet. I hear you ask ``Why?''; would Byron have asked such a question? No, he was too drunk.
The llama attacked again, wielding a short sick elderly gentleman as his walking stick and a poodle as his footrest. Poor Freddy. Stephanie arrived, and then again two weeks later. She lifted a trolley of forgotten brussel sprouts which had unwittingly defied all natural laws and become ... Oh my God ... CHERRY TOMATOES. She screamed, over and over until the sword came and went, and then she paused ... It lasted ten minutes of surrender. SILENCE!
The last word was shattered by the volcano exploding. Ozalp gave vent to a huge shriek and disappeared in a green and purple dust.