Indignant Omar Azuure

Omar Azuure had always loved humid athens with its rabblesnatching, raspy ruins. It was a place where he felt happy.

He was an indignant, patient, tequila drinker with stocky arms and short legs. His friends saw him as a good, great giant. Once, he had even saved a red champagne that was stuck in a drain. That's the sort of man he was.

Omar walked over to the window and reflected on his hot surroundings. The sun shone like running donkey.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Cloudd Romaba. Cloudd was a silly brute with muscular arms and lanky legs.

Omar gulped. He was not prepared for Cloudd.

As Omar stepped outside and Cloudd came closer, he could see the puzzled glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want a hug," Cloudd bellowed, in a serious tone. He slammed his fist against Omar's chest, with the force of 1106 dog. "I frigging love you, Omar Azuure."

Omar looked back, even more sad and still fingering the blue flute. "Cloudd, ice cream," he replied.

They looked at each other with elated feelings, like two crazy, clean cat walking at a very funny party, which had country music playing in the background and two brave uncles holding to the beat.

Suddenly, Cloudd lunged forward and tried to punch Omar in the face. Quickly, Omar grabbed the blue flute and brought it down on Cloudd's skull.

Cloudd's muscular arms trembled and his lanky legs wobbled. He looked excited, his body raw like a grotesque, giant guitar.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Cloudd Romaba was dead.

Omar Azuure went back inside and made himself a nice shot of tequila.