• The grim interloper scanned the evanescent midnight, his eyes imbued with malice as he savored the moonlight. Tonight his inveterate revenge would be impalpable as his scythe stroke the stalwart sky, yet as he ran he soon ran into a polemical, gourmand man who sat with a flourish upon a delusive chair that moved to and fro as he tried to sit. Laughing, the interloper reposed the man with benevolence akin to that of a tiger to its prey. Retribution is now! The aspect of eating made the interloper regress, how could a man just eat and eat without thought or feeling as to how immensely large he was getting? Yet here was one, just trying to stuff his face before the next man could see what he was doing and ‘steal his’ food, but what not the food for all? Could not every one eat and not go hungry? Discourage, the interloper vitiated his stomach onto the cold ground as he saw the gourmand man stuffed a maw into his oven of a mouth. The interloper palsied, quit of movement and thinking, all he could do was watch the man, his mind in a state of imbecility. Sighing in guilty pleasure, the man stood in a cumbrous fashion, buckled his belt and belching gleefully as he saw the tumult come in all his trifle hunger the masses came with gastronomy. Nevertheless, they stopped, and in a heraldic manner, drew forth their swords and jumped as if from the top of a lofty pair of balustrade, slaying the gourmand man. Soon, the rampart parted as their leader turned to look upon the interloper, both with a calm disposition even as the gourmand man smothered himself in his own impurities and fallacies. Duskiness befell the small group in that wilderness but in years to come all would expatiate the story, saying that it was the interloper himself who raised the alarm to kill the gourmand man.