Ven-dezyèm avril De-mil-dizwit ...

Today is Sunday, the 22nd of April 2018.

This blog needs more llama, they say.

Write more about the llama, they say.

We like the crazy walking, talking llama and its' weird ideas and actions, they say.

There is too much llama, I think.

Already way too much, I think.

They cannot make me hallucinating about that abnormal animal, I think.

I am not Bromford in Wonderland, I think.

Wunderkind in Wunderland, I think.

I need my medicine, I think.

The old grandmother I met at the supermarket checkout the other day was still chewing something when I met her again at the red traffic lights later. She probably stole some kind of food from the shop, I think. Some fruit maybe. Grapes, an apple or some pears. Some cookies or sliced sausages. Strange chewing movements, I thought, when she took the other turn out of my field of view, out of my field of comfort.

'How did you know?' a high pitched voice asks.

'What?' I am kind of startled.

'How did you know that old woman was a grandmother? She may have been old but maybe she was a single old woman with no children and more than less grandchildren.'

It is back. It was never gone. It's that cheeky walking and talking llama I refuse to call 'KussKuss' because its' name sounds like the German – Or is it Klingon? – word for 'KissKiss' – an invitation it would take to smack me right in the face all wet and slimey.

'Come on, Bert', the animal says. 'Don't be such a spoilsport.'

'Who is Bert?' I ask nervously.

'Just some cheesy joke.' The animal is coming closer. 'And now shut up, you wanna-be blogger. I am only kidding. Come on and give old grandmother KussKuss a hug!'

The front door slams shut behind me as I flee my own penthouse apartment.