Bromford and Rooster …

 

* Good morning, Bromford!

- What's so good about it?

* The sun is shining,
the birds are singing.

- Give me one good reason…

* …and I made waffles!

- You win today.

The llama is still half sitting, half lying in front of the couch-table in the living-room of the penthouse apartment in the building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the bay and seaside.

»Any progress lately?« I ask reaching out for one or two of the printed papersheets that are literally lying and flying all over the living-room floor. They are basically two versions of the same comic-strip with four panels I have already seen eight days ago.

With its mouth the llama is turning the pages up and down and round and round and from side to side making busy and not very satisfied sounds.

»So, you two have turned my lumpy brown character into a bear now?« I ask.

»Uh-huh«, the llama nods and grunts in agreement. »Bears are cute. And no-one ever asks how the bears are. Everyone should ask how the bears are.«

»And you turned the bagles into waffles?«

»Everyone loves waffles. And they are more international than bagles. Bagles are kind of local, you see? Don't you think, dude? Don't you think? Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?«

The animal has grapped me by the chest-part of my shirt with its teeth trying to shake me.

I take a few steps back.

»I am getting some Ted vibes here. You know, the sentient and anthropomorphic teddy bear from the movies, because of the grumpy bear? And some donkey from Shrek vibes because of the waffles«, I say. »But don't get me wrong. I like it. It is not that bad for the start. Have you got some more footage to look at, something continuing this opening panels?«

»More? More? More?« The llamas level of excitement is constantly increasing. »I do not have more!«

»And Willy?«

»Willy who?«

Willy Wombat«, I try to explain carefully, your artsy-fartsy intelligence from the world wide web and Australia? Does he have more drawings or drafts?«

»I don't know who you are talking about, dude«, the llama is opening the glassdoor to the roof-terrace. »These comic-strips are mine! My design, my ideas, my invention! All mine and mine all alone! Mine! Mine! Mine!«

A sudden single flash of lightning from a grey and cloudy morning-sky is illuminating the animal's face in a most disturbing and definite demonic way.

»Mine! Mine! Mine! More! More! More!«

A heavy gust of wind from the open glassdoor piles the papers into an even greater mess.

»May I ask you to tidy up the living-room a little bit?« I ask ever so carefully. »I have got my next next-companion-appointment with a rooster this afternoon, a rooster called Red.«

»An appointment?« The llama is now standing on its hint-legs pressing its front-legs theatrically against its chest in the heart-area. »My future lies in ruins and you are talking about your next companion? How heartless can you get, dude? Cancel the appointment! Cancel it!«

You win today, I think on my way of withdrawal, backwards out of the living-room

Me opening the door to the hallway of the apartment is causing a real whirlwind within the comic-papers. The llama is now standing in the middle of all the mess with sheets twirling around it like autumn leaves in a storm of fall.

From the kitchen I can still hear the animal whine, »How did they do The Peanuts for 75 years? They had the same gag for all this time in every single comic-strip. The same they did with Garfield and Calvin und Hobbes! Always one and the same note. Why, oh why can't I? Why? Oh why? Oh why? Oh why can't I?«

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Today is Thursday, the 9th of October, 2025.