Llama love stories, as they happen

[queenofthehours]

O Tell Me The Truth About Love - WH Auden

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go round,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't even there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

[unomusette]

This is total genius

[Helmut83]

Lorenzo says he has a comforting smell, and that the author of this must have smelled No Cause.

[BSJ]

Golden!

[vlogdance]

Oh, dear, do I detect the delicate scent of sour grapes?

Although Nieve would be the first to agree that No Cause is not to be sniffed at...

[Helmut83]

More news from Lorenzo Llama as he makes his way to Ohio to encounter his beloved Nieve! We had a chat by phone and he sent me a few pictures by email. He was calling from a mysterious place he didn’t want to reveal.



He said he had an adventurous time in Central America, crossing the Panama channel and making his way up Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras and Guatemala, but he didn’t have time to tell me de details. All I know is he was lucky enough to get to Mexico in one piece and with his Harley Davidson still working properly.


The Renegade got into Mexico by the South border and went on his way North through mountainous rainforest territory, where there’s a strong Mayan culture heritage. At one point he reached a small village where a procession was taking place. There was a very considerable crowd which, judging by the size of the village, had to be formed by people who came from many other places. They were adoring a statue of a jaguar made of china or some sort of finely molded mud. Lorenzo was so unlucky that the procession started moving into the rainforest by the same dirt path he was following, and in the same direction… only they were ahead of him, walking at an unnervingly slow pace, and the hundreds of parishioners were occupying all the width of the road so Lorenzo couldn’t surpass them and go on his way.

What could Lorenzo do? He started honking to the crowd, in the hopes that they would make way and let him pass. At first he did this respectfully, then he lost his patience and sounded his horn insistently but all he got was a few of the congregants staring back at him, then peacefully concentrating again in the sacred statue they were carrying in the middle of the procession. At last he started shouting expletives at the crowd, but to no better avail than before.

At one point the crowd stopped in the middle of the jungle, still occupying the road, and started celebrating what appeared to be a sacred ceremony. Resignation overcame Lorenzo, so he got down of his bike and tried to get a look at what was going on in the middle of the crowd. Carelessly elbowing people sidewards he made his way through the crowd and into the center of it, where a priest was conducting a ritual, enthusiastically raising his arms in the air while mumbling some sort of plea to the jaguar statue. Lorenzo got to the conclusion that the jaguar must have been a god to those people, as everyone was staring adoringly at it but no one dared to touch it. One thing that stood out clearly, he thought, is that llamas weren’t sacred animals in that place.

The Renagade stood there for a while, curiously observing the ritual. Bit by bit, the people surrounding the jaguar started moving slowly, then dancing more vehemently. Then the ones a bit further followed, and then the outer rings of the crowd gradually got involved too, following the tribal song and dancing with more energy each time. The priest had kneeled and was now shouting to the skies things as incoherent as “ooka, chooka, koo la ley” while he punched his chest with his fists.



Lorenzo Llama, on the right, makes his way through the crowd of parishioners to observe the holy ritual. You can see the priest wearing a white robe directing the ceremony, which's central object was the sacred jaguar statue.


Just when the dancing and chanting was most frantic and the ritual appeared to be reaching it’s climax, Lorenzo, who had recently caught a cold in the high altitude of the high mountains, got an itching in his nose. It got worse, and worse, until… “ACHOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!!!!!!”… and the statue of the jaguar exploded into a thousand pieces!!!

All the singing and the chanting stopped in about half a second and the congregants all went still and stared at Lorenzo with a look of incredulity and extreme anger in their faces. You could even hear the flies buzzing. “This doesn't make sense. What could possibly have happened?” Lorenzo thought to himself. Then he remembered: the spittable bullets! He had put a few in his mouth when he was going to kill the journalist Archivaldo Mosquera in Colombia and then he totally forgot about removing them and storing them back in their crate. They remained in his mouth without him having it in mind, and one of them had gotten shot with the sneeze with such bad luck that it had gone in the exact direction where the porcelain jaguar was!

“But they don’t know about the spittable bullets, they don’t know it was me” my camelid friend thought, “I’ve got to blame someone else”. And he started speaking to the crowd: “hey, why are you looking at me? It wasn’t me who did it! It must have been… that guy over there!” pointing at a random man whom Lorenzo though had more a face of being guilty than the others. Then he turned to the priest and said “I propose that we get the guilty man and we hang him from tha… ah… aaahhh… ACHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” and the priest fell flat on his back.

“Oops! Now I might be in trouble”, Lorenzo thought, as the crowd began closing ranks around him, the anger in their looks turned into fury by their priest being shot, on top of the destruction of their god. Some of them took out some objects of the most diverse kind that they were carrying with them and could be utilized as weapons. A mariachi participating in the procession seemed eager to attack Lorenzo with his trumpet, the children joined the general indignation and a horse that had been grazing nearby somehow sensed that the llama over there had done something really bad so he approached him, stood on two legs and threatened to kick him.


The furious crowd surrounds Lorenzo after he accidentally destroyed the sacred jaguar and shot the priest with spittable bullets.



Another angle of the incident


And another one. On the left you can see the priest lying on the floor.


“Maybe if I still have enough spittable bullets in my mouth I could shoot them all one by one and then escape… OK, who am I fooling? There’s not a chance in a million I’m getting out of this one alive. This is where I die. And Nieve will never be able to spend time with me! Nieve, sorry that I failed you, baby!”. To make matters worse, the followers of that cult seemed to be quite peaceful people –at least until that moment-, so none of them was carrying guns or seemed trained in the arts of violence killing. It would probably take them a good many attempts to kill him with their rakes and other farming tools, which would only ensure that Lorenzo’s death in their inexpert hands would be a slow and painful one.

These thoughts were crossing his mind when a rope ladder hanging from somewhere up above swung in front of his snout. “This has to be the true god who is congratulating me for having destroyed a rival god and wants to save me!”. But the voice he heard from above sounded too squeaky to belong to any deity -any respectable deity at least. “Quickly, climb!!!”. Lorenzo didn’t know if that ladder led to heaven, but he knew for sure that staying on the ground would lead him to hell so he lost no time and started climbing it’s steps. A few of the furious parishioners tried to grab him from his wools and stop him, but he skillfully kicked them with his hooves and spit on them (this time no bullets) so he was able to release himself.

As the rope ladder he was on went gaining height and escaped out of the parishioner’s reach, through the corner of his eye the Renegade saw that in another ladder, similar to the one he was on and apparently hanging from the same place, two heavily armed llamas were catching Lorenzo’s Harley Davidson FL and lifting it in the air. As soon as both ladders were high enough in the air that the crowd couldn’t catch them nor throw objects at them, Lorenzo looked upwards to realize what was going on. Hovering above his head he saw a big, black two-propeller helicopter from where the two ladders where hanging. It was piloted by llamas and it had the initials “B. LL.” painted on it. “Brandon Lloyd, the NFL player? Why would he be rescuing me and my bike?”. In any case, the help had come just in time.

Instead of trying to climb all the steps to get to the helicopter’s cockpit and meet the pilot and crew, Lorenzo waited on the ladder, enjoying the wind in his face like true bandits do. He didn’t have any idea whom his rescuers were and where they were taking him. After about an hour he saw a big clearing in the jungle below where a mansion stood out. There was also a golf course, an Olympic swimming pool, a few outdoors hot tubs and jacuzzis, luxury cars parked, exotic animals, a few planes, other helicopters and lots of extravagant items. The black helicopter started descending and it finally landed on that exuberant premise.

Five muscular llamas came down from it in uniforms that looked like military. “Wow! Almost as attractive as myself!” Lorenzo thought. Then he was relieved to see that his Davidson was being given back to him still intact, though he didn’t feel as good when he had to park it beside a bunch of much newer, shinier and better looking motorcycles.

“Follow me” ordered him one of the llamas. Since they had saved his life, Lorenzo decided to make an exception and obey him. The unknown llama guided Lorenzo through several halls and galleries until they reached a huge living room where marble statues spit wine from their mouths and the floor was covered in feline skins. On the opposite side of the room there was a throne made of gold and platinum, and on it a very mysterious being was sitting, much of it’s body and face covered by different pieces of cloth, all of them extremely expensive. It stood up from the throne and Lorenzo saw it had camelid ears.

“Lorenzo Llama! They hail you as a legend in half of the Americas already! Come greet your old pal!”.

The Renegade’s surprise was so big he almost fell to the floor.


Lorenzo Llama's expression in that moment.


It took him a couple of seconds to react after he heard the familiar voice.

“Bandana Llama! My old friend!”.


(to be continued…)

[BSJ]

Nieve writes from a romantic love nest. (Is there any other kind? )

WOW! What an adventure, Lorenzo! Very dramatic, I must say. (If any of this is true.)

 
Highly suspicious of you not telling about your travels through the southern tip of South America. Mmmm… ?

(I can only assume that this bozo was up to no good.)

How many hearts did you break, Lorenzo? Stores robbed? Gas siphoned?

And I thought you couldn’t get any ruder, Lorenzo! *TISK* Making a scene by driving through a religious ceremony! AND killing a PRIEST!  Well, you can bet St Peter has you at the top of his "No entry" list.

Forgetting about bullets in your mouth. Really!? Puhleeze!  

(It’s always something with this guy, isn’t it?)

Bandana Llama is way out of your league, you bird brain. After he sucks you in by his acclamations, wining dinning, and hot tubbing, Bandana’s going to use, abuse and SPIT you out. I hope you’re not as stupid and arrogant as I think you are by bragging of me (well, who wouldn’t) and tell of your love. And, after stoking an interest toward me in Bandana, you’ll then show a photo of me. And then, this blockhead, who obviously gets what he wants, will end up being a rival.

 No Cause asked me what I was laughing at. “Comedy spoof.” I told him.

(Hahahahahahaha! Very clever the village people. The figures with holes in their heads are creepy. Zombies? And, the plants for jungle atmosphere. The priest is gold, as is the horse. Great story, Bub.  And it is dramatic. I fear for the USofA! Love Lorenzo's perm, too. )

[Helmut83]

Lorenzo replies to Nieve:

- "How many hearts did you break, Lorenzo?". Well, I'm Lorenzo Llama... that's what I do, break hearts. Yes, even when I don't want to. But don't be jealous, baby, no matter how many hearts I've broken, mine only beats for you!

- "AND killing a PRIEST! " I'm not even sure the priest died, he just fell to the floor.

- "Well, you can bet St Peter has you at the top of his "No entry" list." Bah, that St Peter guy! The only good thing he did was founding St Petersburg, but then he was so self-centered that he decided to name it after himself. Then they call ME an egomaniac!

- I've heard a human friend of yours is saying she loves my perm... well, I've been trying different hairdos along my way so when I finally get to meet you I look as good as I've ever looked (and that is saying a lot). Right now I've switched to a hipster style, but it's not easy to keep when you are going at full speed on the motorcycle:


Fan yourselves, lady llamas...


(One of the figures with a hole in his head was a playmobil whose hair came off. The other one was just a creepy figurine, with holes in his eyes)

[BSJ]

Hello everyone! Thought we'd chime in to let you know what we've been up to.

We are here on Lofoten Island, Norway. We became close friends to Ujarak and Gjurd. Who, at the last minute (Wednesday), decided to get married here. Nieve was Matron of Honor. No Cause, Best Man.

 

The island is noted for rock climbing and an excellent place for biking.

Here is No Cause extreme rock climbing. He used no ropes, just the rock formations to help make his way to the top and back down (try this LR!).

 

Nieve discussing what type of bike she should use for her trip around the coastline.

 

Having a wonderful time and wish you all could be with us!  Nieve and No Cause.

[Helmut83]

Good to know what the lovebirds have been doing in the meanwhile! When I called Bandana Llama's bunker to inform Lorenzo of this he made a few comments.


Lorenzo says the couple formed by Ujarak and Gjurd looks really good, in fact the only couple looking good at that place.

As for No Cause extreme rock climbing, the Renegade looked impressed and reluctantly admitted that the Welsh llama is indeed very skillful in that art. However, he attributed this skill to a mountain goat being part of his impure lineage.

"Bikes... with pedals? I mean, you have to pedal in order to advance? Oh, Nieve... just wait until I show you big time bikes, baby...".

[BSJ]

This is so damn funny.

[unomusette]

It's gripping too, surprised nobody's approached you and Helmut83 for the film rights. Fifty Shades of Beige?

[unomusette]

The day after Lorenzo’s momentous reunion with his kid-hood compadre, Bandana Llama, there were a lot of sore heads and tangled wools in the jungle hideout. Groaning, hungover camelids could be found up trees, floating in the pool and gingerly attempting to stand on all four hooves. Only the leader of the pack seemed unaffected as he lounged on a stripey deckchair sipping a breakfast pina colada.
 
“Heh! What a party, been a long time since anyone kept up the pace with me, Lorenzo is truly still the iron llama he was in our youth, respect is due” he thought to himself, glancing down to where the Renegade had only recently been overcome by the local hooch and was now sleeping it off



“And I know who he dreams of, the love of his life, the angelic Nieve who has been tricked away with the gringo No Cause” Bandana Llama paused to spit at the thought of such terrible behaviour, luckily remembering to turn his head away from where Lorenzo still slumbered. “All night he raved of her beauty, her perfect pointed ears, her saucy sticky-out front teeth, her perfumed wools and her delicate flared nostrils, aye caramba the lad is besotted” He paused again to fondly recall the image of the Renegade as he’d heaped praise upon his lost love



“It’s too much!” he roared “No friend of Bandana Llama should endure such betrayal, justice must be done!” Draining the last of his breakfast, Bandana Llama surged up out of the deckchair, cast his glass upon the huge pile accummulated during last nights reunion party and marched off towards the mansion, braying for his most trusted hench-llamas. Nearby minions whimpered as their delicate ears were assaulted by the racket and reached for more painkillers.

Several hours later, a victorious cry came up from a group of dodgy-looking camelids hunched over a bank of computers in the basement. “Boss, I have them! At a free festival in Eeengland! ” There was a tip-tapping tornado of hooves as the operators gathered around, only to be shoved aside as Bandana Llama steamrollered his way to the front. The look of disgust on his face as he viewed the screen caused several nearby pot plants to wilt away on the spot. And who could blame him?



“What is this perversion?” demanded the woolly gangster “It is worse than I thought, this pigdog No Cause has led the sweet and innocent Nieve into total depravity! Everyone knows that playing Doctors and Nurses only leads to total loss of morals and ruination of good character, we must save her now and bring her to her true love, the brave, bold and brilliant Lorenzo!” There was a general baa-ing of agreement.

“But Boss, how will we get close enough to capture her without arousing suspicion?”

Bandana Llama lost patience and slammed all four of his hooves down at once, so that all the computers jumped up in the air and crashed down again, causing much distress to still-delicate constitutions

“Meh, must I thing of everything? It’s a hippy festival, all you need are cunning disguises and you’ll blend right in – now away with you and don’t come back without the incomparable Nieve – we can only hope we’re in time before she’s completely corrupted by that swine No Cause, or it will be the worse for you!”

And so it was that after being helicoptered secretly into the English countryside by night, a totally unnoticeable group of tourists flashed their forged tickets and infiltrated the Drunken Badger Festival







That evening, exhausted but happy after a mad session of morris dancing fuelled by gallons of dodgy cider, Nieve and No Cause gazed up at the stars from their hammock, slowly dropping off to sleep. No Cause dreamed happily, pleasant memories of that day’s cosplay and romantic carrot supper filling his head. Then, suddenly, he was jerked awake by the mighty wind caused by a hovering helicopter from which dangled ropes being climbed by a gang of oddly woolly hippies. Between them hung a net from which a horribly familiar voice could be heard wailing:

“Help! Save me, No Cause! Noooooo!......”

He was on his hooves with an outraged snort, but it was too late. The cargo door swallowed up the net with its struggling cargo and the abductors scrambled up after it before the whole contraption zoomed away into the night. All that was left was a card which fluttered down to the ground before No Cause’s bewildered eyes. It read:
“Tough luck, gringo – your plan to separate Nieve from her true love Lorenzo Llama was always doomed to failure – but you can console yourself by knowing you’ve been beaten by the best, mala suerte, perdedor!”

A single hoof print signature in what looked like blood was enough to confirm to No Cause the identity of his beloved’s captor. With a snarl and a big foamy spit he glared in the direction the helicopter had taken and howled defiance

“YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS BANDANA LLAMA!!! “

[BSJ]

I'm crying from laughing so hard. Those photo's!

Unbelievable. Well done Toots! Great set up! 

[Helmut83]

Hilarious stuff, unomusette ! What a dominating and intimidating character that Bandana Llama is! I could almost feel my notebook jump up in the air when he got indignant at No Cause's love practices and at his own subjects' lack of wit.

The pictures of the "tourists" infiltrating the festival are golden, no wonder they could get past security so easily with such professional disguises. And despite looking a bit incompetent, they got the job done very efficiently!

I wonder what destiny has in store for Nieve now, unexpectedly caught in the hands of a third party...