"Not from these parts, are ye, delicious?"
I raised my head. There he was, standing right in front of me. A mountain of a man, so tall and so wide he obscured all of my vision. A greased vest barely held his enormous gut, its buttons looking as if they would burst any minute.
Suddenly, I felt very small. I wondered how I had not seen the man approach.
I could see the white of his eyes as he stared at me with a wide grin. He had huge, chipped teeth. For a moment I thought of tombstones, the way they were built in my homeland. In this wretched country, I heard, they didn't bury their dead the way good people do.
"No, ye're not. I could tell," he nodded to himself happily. "Well then, welcome to the Crimson Republic. Enjoy that lil' stay of yers."
He threw his head back and roared with laughter, as though he had just cracked the joke of his life. His obese body trembled as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed in his booming voice. Rumbling echoes bounced inside my head. I felt the urge to be somewhere else, someplace away from this man. But I just stood there, helpless.
And then the man looked serious.
"We'll meet again soon," he said gravely. "Until then, delicious."
He patted me on the shoulder like an old friend would. As he leaned towards me, I saw his beard glisten with drool. The stench of his breath was choking me. His heavy hand on my shoulder felt like rotten meat, warm and a tad sticky. I shrugged, and my repulse seemed to amuse him. He turned his back and moved along, chuckling.
I watched him go. I did not know at the time, but the Cheery Man was right. We did meet again.