|
»tally-ho,« old chap, said the red-coated sportsman to the farmer perched on the seat of his ancient, rusting tractor. »have you seen a fox around here?«
the farmer wasn't really a farmer, but a member of the anti-blood-sports league in disguise. and his tractor wasn't really a tractor, but a vintage world war II tank. »the unspeakable in search of the uneatable,« he snorted as he cranked the steering wheel hard left, gunned the engine, and flattened the red-coated sportsman.
|
