They all look at me strangely. There is no dead man, I just killed a cow, nothing more. She gave me a hard time, the naughty one, but at the end of the effort, I had the upper hand on his aggressiveness and his insolence. Patience always pays. I must say that I personally put in a great deal of work. For the occasion, I took out my baseball bat. A strong blow on the head, a great body-to-body show, then a meticulous cutting. The throat, first, then the flan, from neck to tail. Right and left, symmetry counts in these things, a matter of taste and order. I feel their eyes heavy reproaches on my overalls stained with blood. Yes, I took all the precautions, but the collateral projections are inevitable. I finished it calmly. Work well done, clean. That being so, not sure that she deserves these considerations given the actions that pushed me to punish her. A crowd has formed. The members of this improvised tribunal did not attend the scene, they accuse me by intellectual laziness, without knowing, they need a suspect, an accused to condemn right away.
She gave me a snout while waddling, an air of defiance in her eyes. Impossible to let that go. Time to put my hand on my equipment and the trick was played. A doubt touched me on my return to the herd of cows reconstituted, the black sheep barely recognizable. If I did not want to be trampled on by the pack of ruminants in solidarity, we should not procrastinate. I fell head down and bat up on my prey. The others have retreated, you speak of a mutual help!
I approach the hostel with this delicious sensation that everyone observes me, even birds and squirrels. I’ll have to change my clothes. I read on the faces a mixture of horror and relief to hold the culprit. Calmed, serene, I wipe one last time hands on my thighs while addressing my best smile. They do not get anything. There is no death of man, she looked at me wrongly, that’s all. Like this good old Bernie, three years ago. For him, they are still looking for the culprit.
