Wild Fiction

‘The author of course. He the man. He give me flight number. He give me time and he give me date.’
‘Why didn’t he tell us about you?’ Conrad looked suspiciously over the man’s shoulder at the milling crowd.
‘He stupid. He forget to tell me until after you leave. He send email. I have email here. You read.’
Conrad took the folded piece of paper and opened it out.
Dear Julius,
I have sent my friends on a fact-finding mission for one of my books. Please could you show them the same courtesy you have shown me in the past.
Here are the details of their arrival and their descriptions…
Conrad stopped reading and looked up at Julius. He had a broad grin showing many crooked yellow teeth with large gaps between them. His tongue was flapping about in his spacious mouth. His ears stuck out from the side of his head like radar dishes waiting for the next inter-galactic message to arrive.
‘You’ve looked after the author? Here in Belize?’ Conrad asked.
‘Oh yes. He the man. He like Belize. He come here often.’
‘Does he fly here?’
‘Oh yes. He fly here. Same as you. He fly here. I meet him here. I look after him.’
‘So he’s not afraid of flying?’
‘Oh no. He like to fly. He fly here many times.’