That was something of a lie, I'll admit. There is little blood in the desert... Except for the Mexicans: the customer killed and ate them all. Nah, not really. Everyone's doing fine, we even found a copy of Hungry Hungry Hippos to play of an evening.
The helicopter, that's where we were. I can't really be bothered re-reading my last post, so I'll hope for the best. The helicopter's landed now. Did I mention that? Oh well, here goes.
I approached the helicopter. With any luck, this wouldn't just contain deer like the last three airborne vehicles I'd seen. Who'd have guessed deer loved oranges so much? Anyhow, as I approached, the pilot hopped out, accompanied by the familiar figure in the passenger seat: Max! Twice in as many decades, I felt pleased to see him.
"Max! What're you doing here?" I yelled happily, rushing to greet him and offer an orange.
"Nuclear war!" He yelled "The sky burned, the oceans boiled, the fish cooked! Britain's full of zombies, from Aberdeen to Zurich!"
Disregarding the location of Zurich, Max continued:
"Civilization has collapsed. Armies of nuclear choirs roam the countryside, and the mutant-zombies have seized control of the electricity supplies. We have to rebuild civilization! Here! With Mexicans!"
"Really?" I asked. Frankly, it was all a lot to take in.
"Nah." Max replied. "I just thought I should find you. I broke your toaster."
We packed up the oranges, and all flew home. Sometimes, there's a simple solution to problems. One minute, evil British aristocrats kidnap you and make you man an orange stall in the desert, the next minute, you get in a helicopter and go home.
Actually, you're right, this is deus ex machina really. Not a satisfying conclusion at all. I'm very sorry.