Image via WikipediaThere was a figure coming down the path, towards my front door. A familiar figure, hidden under a giant sombrero and poncho, cutting a zig-zag path to my house. Stumbling to the door, Max reached out and feebly tried to claw the door-handle.
I opened the door and looked at him in silence.
"!" He yelled, "It is I! El Drunko, the Mexican drunk!"
I continued to look on impassively. After a few moments, a group of banditos arrived and started to shoot at Max. I went back into the house and boiled the kettle. I was thirsty, and wanted some tea.