MUSHROOMLAND, COLUMBIA
“Y ou’re a drug lord?” I can’t believe it.
“Semantics. I prefer the term Professor Feelgood.” The Pillar hands over the coconut drink. “Sip it slowly. It will take an hour or two before the mushrooms’ effect wears off.”
I hesitate about taking it from him.
“Come on. It’s not poisoned. I won’t hurt you.”
I’m not sure about that, but I have no choice. If I don’t drink it, I’ll die.
It’s not just that. Since I heard about the Pillar being a drug lord, I’ve had the unexplained urge to shoot him dead. I don’t know why I feel so aggressive. It could be the hallucinations.
Maybe all this world really needs is to get rid of the Pillar.
“So Senor Pillardo”—the Executioner guides us into his missile-proof Humvee—“let’s go back to my castle. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Actually, I’m running out of time...”
“Trust me, we have a lot of time—and drugs and mushrooms. And hookahs. And girls. All you need, like in the old days,” the Executioner says. “I understand that you didn’t just come here to see me. We know that is definitely not the case.”.
For the first time ever, I see the Pillar lower his gaze, just a little. What is going on between those two?
“I promise I will look into whatever you need to talk about, but first, we have to enjoy some time in my castle. Just like the old days, Senior. Remember those? Man, you were some psycho maniac back then, but you sure made the deals of the century selling drugs, and a lot of money.”
My hands slide down and reach for my umbrella. What if I just shoot both of them? Wouldn’t the world be a better place?
Entering the Humvee, we watch the world burn in flames behind us as we’re driving to the Executioner’s castle.
“So, what’s this war all about?” I ask. “Aren’t you all friends here, selling mushrooms?”
“I think Senor Pillardo can tell you himself.” The Executioner laughs.
The Pillar takes a moment then returns to his sarcasm. “It’s nothing. The Executioner’s boys are having fun. Killing for sport.”
The Executioner eyes the Pillar. “Ah, so you don’t want to tell her?” He turns to me. “Let me tell you why my men are killing each other, little girl. But right after we have some drinks at my castle.”
“We don’t have time for your damn castle!” Is it the drugs? Is it me? “We came for...”
The Executioner pulls out another machine gun, a bigger one this time, and points it at me. I’m starting to get bored with this. If you’re going to point a gun, you better use it. “I really don’t like shooting.” His sinister intentions show through now. “We’re going to have a welcome meal, then I will listen to what both of you want with me, and then I will decide whether I will kill you or not.”