The Llama was insane. It knew that.
But that didn’t stop it from sitting in the silver chair atop the grassy knoll. With hind legs crossed and chin resting restlessly on a front hoof the beast contemplated his quick descent into psychosis that began and ended that very morning in the blink of an eye.
Yesterday… sane. Today… insane. There it was and with very little in between.
In fact he wasn’t even a llama at all but rather a goat with a dramatically elongated neck as a birth defect and an ambition to be more than he was. So llama was his chosen identity rather than the one chosen for him by the seemingly random events that lead to his being born a goat.
Oh cruel fates!
To be a goat meant… well to not be a llama and any sane being wanted to be a llama. Majestic creatures that they were, the llama commanded the admiration and respect of the entire southern continent with a single glance.
So here he was… a non-llama llama in a silver chair.
Hmmm… maybe the monkeys wanted to play.