Bromford and Quokka ...

 

The llama is sitting on the roof-terrace of our penthouse above the fifteenth floor of the apartment building on 666, Whitaker Lane, in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside, and playing the pan flute.

»Look who is silly now«, the animal says, »silly and all stereotypistic. As if llamas could play pan flutes.«

»What about all those rumours about animal societies?« I ask.

»Spreading, dude, still spreading.«

»And?« I ask. »Do you still think all animals are dangerous?«

The llama keeps on chewing the wild wine growing and hanging from the outer walls of the penthouse. And it is nodding to my question.

»But look at today's picture«, I say. »Look who I met today.«

»What kind of animal is that?« the llama aks.

I say, »It may not be man's best friend but maybe the friendliest animal in the world.«

»Yeah, it seams to be grinning, but what is it, dude?«

»Never met a quokka before, llama?«

The llama is shaking its head.

»OK«, it says after a few moments of thinking, »it is grinning. And it is grinning with you. It might kill you last.«

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Today is Sunday, the 21st of April 2024.