30 Dead At A Funeral …

Autumn fog is crawling up from the streets of Bromford to the penthouse on the roof of 666 Whitaker Lane.

The llama is lying in the hammock in the living room reading a magazine called The Quizzler.

'What's does that headline say you are reading?' I ask.

'30 Dead At A Funeral', the llama says.

'Yes, I can read that', I say, 'but what is the story behind that? Sounds really sad.'

The llama is turning the page chewing its' lips.

'Well', the animal says finally, 'there was this grandpa from Granville who died at the age of 105 and all 30 visitors at the gathering after his funeral died. The experts think it was either poisoned coffee or some omnious gas from various thermos that usually were stored in the town hall where the gathering took place. But really I think the deceased's 98 year old second cousin is right when he says that aliens adopted these 30 persons and returned them dead after some wild parties on their home planat.'

'Do you think that magazine is reliable?' I ask. 'Those story sounds really weird to me.'

'How can I know?' the llama says. 'I cannot even read. I am just using the paper because it tastes delicious. Want a bite?'

Not today, I say to myself, reading a new fortune cookies' motto.

If you don't dare,

you can't win.

Today is Sunday, the 24th of November 2019.