Hendrick Bartague sat in a shawl on the balcony overlooking the square. Watching people milling around, he caressed his beard and let the smoke from his pipe drift and curl around his large, flabby face. They were busy today. It was the town fair. Some folk had walked miles to bring their crappy little home-made trinkets to try and sell to the more ignorant and sentimental citizens of Mun-Qikoch. In spite of his foul personality Hendrick smiled a taut one at the fools below. His feeling of infinite superiority was pretty much his only lifeline now he’d cheated on his wife and been righteously abandoned.
He took a sip from his mug of petrol. A bird squawked above him and circled menacingly. It was as though they’d been spying on him- he never had his shotgun handy when they were so close. He knew the bird would get the idea if he inched off and grabbed it from under his pillow now, so he just watched the verminous warbler circling, round and round. It was shaky, occasionally blustered by the wind, and looked like a silly bastard to Hendrick. Damn, I should always bring the shotgun out. Damn.
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