Griswold! What a nag! I thought. Idiot! I thought again.
Chumster my friend said that he was an old goat, a hermit, or a phoney. What a caper to go on! I was a little cranky about meeting the old “goat” or hermit. But I was going to find him no matter what.

Seriously, I thought.
My GPS led me to the middle of the Great Desert and there was a man and his army chasing me. Then I realised a certain white blur with long horns was Griswold.
“I’m coming for you Mack!” he bleated.
He tossed me by my trousers and then threw me on to a fat llama’s back. The llama spat me out and I fell.
“Ow!” I moaned.