“Martin,” spoke a powerful voice from the almost empty dark sky covered in tiny white dots that are actually the size of a thousand suns, “where be you?”
Martin looked up ever so shocked by the sudden thundery voice, “wow, what’s going on here? Who dares speaketh to my wicked awesome person?” As he waited for answer a loud and low pitch sound was heard and a dark cloud emerged in the far of the land. It sounded like the screaming of frogs and a million whiskey drinking scots in extreme slow motion fighting to survive a swamp sinking. The cloud came nearer and nearer and Martin did not know what to make of it. Running seemed useless, because the sheer size if the cloud could swallow his hole land. As the sound became clearer, not so much screaming now as before, it became obvious what it was and Martin thought for sure this was the end of his existence. Quick thinking was required to survive the cloud, and quick thinking the small important man did. Martin took the cigarette from his mouth and THREW IT ON THE GROOOUUUNND! He stomped on it until there was not a single piece of red visible. The cigarette had been forced to cease the slow and sure death it brought the little man from Freising. An instant later the cloud reached Martin’s land and the smell was horrible. The smell of a million dead deer, burning human hair, several thousand unopened eggs that laid in the burning sun for days and old socks. One man could be responsible for such a unique sensation of the taste receptors and olfactory nerves and Martin knew it. At the other end of the cloud was Bondt. His land in ruins, his cattle dead, his house torn down to but a single wall, but a visit from Bondt was never a sad one. “Thank you,” Bondt said after arriving, “thank you for all your awesome and hard work. I know some of us — and I won’t call names — can be a literal pain in the anus sometimes, but today I come to thank you. You are one awesome, needless to say now homeless, man.” Martin broke down in tears, but mainly because only now could be breath air again and felt his nostrils burning. After a short scene of some involuntary coughs paired with blood running from the ears, Martin quickly recovered,”sure man, you’re the best.”
Together they watched over the empty land, once filled with flowers and cows and horses, enjoying the view of the perfect sundown.