Away to the rodeo

Amkreutz took the shades underneath his trenchcoat, and skipped over the landscape, taking only the necessary detours.

They looked through the window at the voided danger, with pangs in their spleens, at the tremendous loss of Arthropoda that had been swept from Amkreutz' mustachioed lip.

Resolving to take the name of Hoehleaffen for this chapter in life, Amkreutz refused to be called by any other name except that. Or call any other being that, until honour had been avenged at the rodeo. The Hoehleaffen protested obdurately, then sweetly, then not at all, retreating from Amkreutz' (Hoehleaffen) glare. He took up a pencil, with an ease that betrayed years of experience, and sketched his intentions on the collar of his crisply starched pajamas.