Bandits

The bandits rode off, firing their guns in the air and laughing cruelly.

The old man addressed his village: “We cannot tolerate this! These dogs steal everything we work for! We must seek help. If we find none, then we must defend ourselves. The time has come to stand and fight!”

“Oh,” said Carlos, “so you care about bandits more than wolves?”

“Of course wolves are dangerous,” said the old man. “But the bandits steal all our food and supplies, and leave us nothing.”

“You care about bandits today,” said Ricardo, “but where were you yesterday?”

Carlos said, “He’s always going on about bandits. That’s why we can’t take him seriously. He’s a wolf-lover.”

“Too long we have let these bandits terrorise us!” cried the old man.

“Who’s this ‘we’?” said Maria.

“Stealing everything we work for is one thing,” said Ricardo, “but the main issue is that they might decide to rape our women.”

Carlos looked at Ricardo’s wife. “Ha!” he said.

“Ugmgh,” said Carlos, holding his nose.

Pedro the potter pointed a finger at the old man. “You’re wrong about standing up against the bandits,” he said, “but I am not going to tell you why.”

“What?” said the old man.

“Educate yourself,” said Pedro, folding his arms.

“And you shouldn’t call them dogs,” said Pedro’s wife.

“They killed Rafael,” said the old man, gesturing to the corpse.

“I don’t know why you care about bandits at all,” said Carlos, whose nose had now mostly stopped bleeding.

The old man blinked, lost for words.

“Why talk about this?” said Maria. “Nothing will change.”

And Pedro said, “Support my Kickstarter!”