n. 35 The Dreadful Dead

He bent over the asparagus and started to sputter something with his tongue in his teeth. -What the hell are you doing now? The sun is setting, can’t you see it? We’re in a hurry! -Hold on, I know the asparagus’s language… I’m afraid this route is the wrong one. -But what are you saying? Look at the map! No way, he went on raspberrying, bent on the tiny bush. Then he hushed up. He cocked his ears. He literally drew a bowl-shaped palm next to his ear in order to listen. He nodded. He got it. He briefly raspberried once again and got up. -The asparagus says we’re on the wrong way, the right route is the Capilotte path we went past uphill. -And I’m supposed to trust you, who gather your info from… an asparagus spear? -Well, it’s up to you, it’s been here longer than we have for sure. He looked at the map, looked at the asparagus. We climbed back uphill along the Capilotte path, and less than half an hour later we were home in front of our fireplace.