We are not really very happy. No, sir, we are not happy at all. It's been a short little while since we arrived in this godforsaken place and our happiness has not improved. We've seen everything there is to see. Not that there's much to it. A short walk up the Main Street and back down, past bright, clean and empty store fronts. We were promised happiness. "It will be instantaneous happiness, which o'erfloweth your heart's capacities," you told us, sir. Yes, sir, you did. We sit here in the blazing sunshine. Heat which hurts and stifles the lungs. It feels too warm to breathe. Unfortunately we need to breathe. You know that. You look surprised at our dismal situation. This place is not good for us. We sit on the bench you told us to. Waiting for the man to come along. Holding the weapon you gave us.
Imagine our surprise when we left the transport. At first all seemed well when we arrived. The place looked small. We like small places. Not many places to hide. It looked small and compact and close together. We like all these things. We don't like big, rambling places with long streets. They are tiring and too many places to run. Too many people and too many places. So we were happy when we saw it. No people and small. Maybe just one person. Maybe just the man. We were momentarily very very happy indeed at this thought.
And now you ask us, again, for the hundredth time, why we are not happy, sir. We will explain one more time and then we want transport away. Take us away from this place. We will need a promise from you that you will take us away, straightaways. Good, thank you, sir.
We will recap. We thought we were happy. Small town, no people. Sunny, but that did not bother us too much. It looked warm, maybe hot from the window. There was dryness. We hate dryness. We like water. We like the wetness that water brings. The wetness and coolness. We left the transport and it was not warm. No sir. Not warm. It was freakishly hot. Hot beyond hot. Hot that hurts and burns and aches.