Hom-Ken was some yards ahead when he put up an open palm as a signal to halt.

He had heard something in the jungle just beyond some tittenalarm trees. I knew to be silent and hold my breath. Scroturai ears are small - like infant cashews, but they are keen and precise like that of a wild lynx.

Hom-Ken bent his knees and peered out among the foliage.

I slid onto my trunk, and with the savage instinct of a hen and slowly, ever so slowly, I slid the pointed killing stick from my waistband and gripped it in my scurvy teeth. I crawled.

We were both thick with mud. Hom-Ken had suggested we covered our bodies in the thick sludge from the cracked riverbeds of the jungle. Hideous gloop like coughed up camel catarrh. Unfortunately I had erred and covered my face in thick handfuls of briney horse shit - but that's a tale for another time.

As Hom-Ken leaned forward to source the sound of some distant grunting (like the coitus activity of mandrills) a portion of his yellow neck skin shone through his muddy wallpaper like a small triangular sandwich. There, there would I strike the blow. Like a target, I focused intently on that patch of his unholy, bollock faced body. I would quick-strike the sharp implement of death into his neck and skewer him to the nape. Yes. I was actually going to kill. (I have killed before, in Cyrpus - a party of Priests, but that tale is for another time)

As Hom-Ken leant this way and that - his little nutty ears twitching endearingly, I focused coldly on the exposed part of his neck. One blow. One Blow! I would use my trusted 'Skip-Jab' motion perfected by Ramblers since time immemorial. One skip, one jab!

I was close now - not a sound. Close.

I released the blade from my teeth, and rose slowly; my horsey shitty facey - that of a killer.

I moved to him. He moved his head a tilt.

I took the blade - raised it...I eyed his neck. Nothing in the world existed now but the point of my weapon and the point of impact. These two things - nothing more.

I focused and prepared my mind for the kill - like I had done on that rocky mountain trail when I detonated the charge that dispatched that trailer full of Cypriot Priests.

I moved close now - suddenly my right foot came town upon a twig -SNAP...

"Shhsshh you cunt" Hom-Ken whispered without turning.

I breathed again and raised the blade. Now was the hour of my joy!

Long hours of contemplation and degredation when the bollock headed overlord made me cup his balls in my mouth as he meditated (but that tale is for another time).

These thought and more filled my brain with hatred, fury and horniness as that blade fell and all my power was channelled into my kill-limb as my weapon fell with all the world's power - like the explosion that ripped through those Priests and sent them over that ravine and straight through the gates of hell!!!!

This was it! No return. The blade fell!!!!!!

"DEATH TO HOM-KENYOUCCCCCOOOOCKKKSUCCCCKKKKERMOTHERFUCCCCKCKCKCKKKKERRRRRRR!"