Great American Novel. Chapter One. Randy

Great American Novel. Chapter One. Randy M Gravadlax's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scorching scenery of New England. Cactus abounded as far as the distant horizon. He spurred

his llama to a full gallop as he approached the state of Miami. Two official looking New England cowboy border guards stopped him. "Cheerio, mate. Wot's that you're riding?" Randy

Quaid was acting again. He and his llama spit on him. The two New England cowboy border guards looked at each other. One said to him, "You shouldn't have done that guy."

Turned out this was a doppelganger, again. Argh! The llama gave Quaid the old heave ho and indicated I was to ride him instead. How to ride a llama if you don't know its name? Okay

, well first, hi llama. You're not another doppelganger, are you? My interior monologue was cut short as Quaid yelled, "Just get on the damned beast already!" I looked at the llama

and the llama looked at me and something just happened. Sparks flew. Not romantic sparks. Maybe romantic in the adventurous sense of the word. I think I was a llamataur in a past

incarnation. The llama fluttered its heavy eyelashes at me, and gently said, "You are only a llamateur. Come, let me teach you the ways of our people," and it held out it's hoof

. I recoiled in horror: "Trying to give me Covid?! Take me to your leader." I was escorted to the Daily Llama, who was rattling off headlines: "Biden Threatens to Ban Fortune Cooki

es in favor of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream.” The Daily Llama saw me and nodded. I was nervous and could only stutter, “W-W-Where did you get your sandals, Your Holiness?"

He replied with a riddle. "Once hairy, today it straps my feet, but not before a suntan made the dead thing sleek!"