Firstly, Kambangane twists his nose and sniffs some meat. The wind blows a meaty perfume towards him, and the swollen pimple on his tongue triggers his craving. Soon, his dog follows him, before he kicks the yapping dog in the tummy. Then, he sprinkles sand in the air and follows the smell. By now, he whiffs the smell of onions and crushed chillies. Afterwards, he wipes drooling saliva from the corner of his lips. Next to a fake-umbrella tree, he spots Zakueeua sneezing after sniffing white pepper. Secondly,  Zakueeua dumps a finger on his oiled lips. Then he mines a fist-size piece of steak from his teeth with a needle-sharp twig. “Is it fat?” asks Kambangane, his saliva watering the soil. “You’re the best cook,” says he, tapping Zakueeua’s shoulder. In a blink, the bubbling fat soaking the meat churns his tummy. Zakueeua generously places chunks of meat into a blue bowl. Soon, Kambangane crushes a fly loitering over the meat. His friend cups his mouth and scolds him for mincing a housefly. “Let’s erase our footprints, before the owner finds out,” says Zakueeua, rapidly winking. His remarks stir Kambangane to greedily chew chunks of meat at once. Suddenly,  his eyes balloon and his legs vibrate. In response, his friend punches him in the chest. “You’ve saved my life,” he says, panting. Then he slices the meat into chewable pieces and moves his jaws left and right. By now, the ear-splitting swallowing blocks any chats, and they simply wave their fat-stained hands and roll their thievery eyes. Suddenly, a piece of the liver falls on Kambangane’s lap, and he knits his eyebrows. “Whose goat are we eating?” says Kambangane, rubbing his pumpkin-like tummy. Then he sips steaming fat from a yellow cup for dessert. “It’s a straying goat,” says Zakueeua, battling hiccups. “Did you check the earmarks?” says Kambangane, with an eardrum-bursting burp. They dig a pit to bury the redhead and the red hooves. Zakueeua lowers the head into the hole, but Kambangane pops his eyes at the ear notches. Suddenly, he pulls the head up and polices the markings on the left ear. With the speed of a tiger, he grips Zakueeua’s neck. “You’ve killed my only goat,” he sobs, tightening the grip on his neck, and only freeing him after he vomits chunks of meat. However,  his plier-like grip leaves permanent ring-marks on Zakueeua’s neck.