Ritorna Me
The Glorious.
Senor Hilter had always loved beautiful Berlin with its tame, tasteless trees. It was a place where he felt calm. He was a considerate, creepy, beer drinker with scrawny ankles and grubby elbows. His friends saw him as an open, obedient ogre. Once, he had even made a cup of tea for an outstanding chicken. That's the sort of man he was. Senor walked over to the window and reflected on his grand surroundings. The hail pounded like walking toads. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Kaiser Wilhelm. Kaiser was an intelligent brute with wobbly ankles and feathery elbows. Senor gulped. He was not prepared for Kaiser. As Senor stepped outside and Kaiser came closer, he could see the sturdy glint in his eye. Kaiser glared with all the wrath of 6531 kind knotty kittens. He said, in hushed tones, "I hate you and I want Berlin." Senor looked back, even more concerned and still fingering the cursed gun. "Kaiser, you shall never get Berlin," he replied. They looked at each other with shocked feelings, like two tasty, teeny-tiny tortoises boating at a very selfish funeral, which had German Hardbass music playing in the background and two mean uncles jumping to the beat. Senor regarded Kaiser's wobbly ankles and feathery elbows. "I feel the same way!" revealed Senor with a delighted grin. Kaiser looked sad, his emotions blushing like a motionless, mouldy map. Then Kaiser came inside for a nice drink of beer. THE END
