Precautions taken for the prevention of llama attack

It took me about half an hour to get through Mr Morton’s security system. There was a bulky South Africa at the gate, who asked me all kinds of questions:

“What’s your business with Mr Morton?”

“I’m his friend, he asked me come over. He’s expecting me.”

The guard was clearly reading through a list of pre-set questions. “Are you a llama?”

“A llama? Of course I’m not a llama.”

Even after the questions he insisted on comparing my face to the photo of a llama on his computer screen.

“That’s clearly not me,” I said. He scrutinised further.

“Apparently not,” he admitted, and proceeded to compare me to the next photo of a llama.

“Is this really necessary?”

“Mr Morton has insisted on precautions sir. I must follow procedure.”

He proceeded to check my appearance against the pictures of six different llamas, before eventually letting me in.

“What do you think of my security system?” Mr Morton enthused, when I eventually saw him.

“It’s a bit strict.”

“It has to be, I’m living in fear.” He gestured for me to follow him on a tour of his grounds.

“The entire house is surrounded by an electrified wall, six metres high, the voltage is high enough to stun an elephant.” He gestured in the direction of the prostrate body of an elephant lying next to a portion of the wall. “He’ll be out for another three hours at least.”

“There are 436 security cameras covering every section of the grounds, watched by a team of thirty-six top security guards.”

“The guy on the gate didn’t seem very bright,” I said, remembering the time it took him to determine I wasn’t a llama.

“Oh, but he is. He has a certificate of llama deterrence. He’s one of the best there is.”

“But why? Llamas are harmless.”

We had been strolling gently through the grounds, but at this statement Mr Morton stopped abruptly and turned to look at me, a mad, red anger in his eyes.

“Don’t tell me that you believe that nonsense too. All that ‘lovely cuddly llama’ tripe.”

“But they give children llama rides in the zoo.”

He shook his said sadly, before responding. “They’re clever, I’ll give you that. They’ve convinced everyone that they’re harmless, only eat grass, never bite.”

He finally ceased staring at me and resumed his stroll, continuing his conversation as he walked. “But I’ve been collecting a secret dossier, noting the corpses found in the vicinity of children’s zoos and llama farms. I’m about to publish my findings.

“They know, you know.”

“Who?”

“The llamas. They’ve found out that I’m about to publish. I heard on the news, six llamas escaped from a local zoo yesterday. I’ve had to up my security. I’ve got 113 tigers patrolling the grounds.”

“Tigers,” I said in shock. “There are tigers on the loose?”

“Don’t worry, old chap, they won’t attack humans. They’re trained only to attack llamas.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He looked affronted. “They’ve all got certificates. What do you think I am, stupid enough to have an uncertificated tiger on the prowl?”

I wasn’t reassured and when a few minutes late we walked into the path of one of the tigers, Mr Morton had to grab me to stop me running away.

“Don’t be stupid man,” he shouted, “you’re running straight into the minefield.”

“Minefield!”

“Of course, you don’t think the wall and the tigers are enough, do you? The entire grounds are mined. Only me, the tigers and a select few of the guards know the safe routes through.”

“I could’ve been blown up, I’ve been walking the grounds for twenty minutes.”

“Not at all, not at all. I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Let’s go in the house,” I insisted, “I don’t feel safe out here with tigers and mines.”

“Good idea, I’ve got something for you inside anyway.”

He made me wait in the lounge while he fetched “something important.” As I was waiting a mad-looking hairy man walked into the room, carrying an axe.

“Hello,” I said, wanting to appear as friendly as possible. “Never pick a fight with a man carrying an axe,” my dad had once told me. If only he’d followed his own advice he might still be with us now.

The man walked up to me, sniffed me, grunted and walked away.

“Who was the man with the axe?” I asked Morton when he returned.

“Oh, that’s just Mad Axeman Mike. He’s helping with security.”

“Mad Mike? The guy who’s just broken out of Liberty Prison. The one the police say to keep away from at all costs?”

“Oh, that’s just the kind of thing the police say. I helped him to break out. Llamas hate mad axemen, he‘s a great reassurance to me. He’s perfectly safe, don’t worry, he’s got a certificate.”

“Oh, that’s okay then.”

“Anyway, this is what I asked you here for. A copy of my files, all the evidence I have against the llamas. If anything should happen to me I want you to warn the world about the llama threat.”

He handed me a memory stick and seemed contented, knowing that the world’s knowledge of llama atrocities was thus shared and I took the opportunity to leave. I was rather relieved to get away from the tigers, minefields and mad axe murderers.

Alas, all Mr Morton’s security wasn’t enough. Just over an hour after I left the llamas broke in and killed him, along with most of his security forces and Mad Mike, cunningly disguising the wounds to look like tiger attacks.

I’m sure the llamas know that I’ve got a copy of the files, which is why I’m on the run. Morton’s death shows that you can’t stop the llamas getting to you if they know where you are, my only hope is that they never catch up with me. I’ve got an assumed name, a false passport and I’m about to get on a plane to, well, it’s best that you don’t know.

Of course, by reading this account your own life is now in danger. I advise you to leave your house, change your name, to run away while you still can. Run, run you fool, the llamas will get you.