The Count looked at his interrogator, who could barely hide his outlandish teeth behind his upper lip. As usual he couldn’t decide whether the grimace hid a smile or just his buckteeth.

“No idea… the aitch, ain’t it?”

“No, the size,” replied Rabbit, releasing his dentures to laugh long and sonorously, and inviting the others to join in the joke.

“Don’t take any notice of him, Condesito,” said Josefina, coming to the rescue and holding his hands. “Look, as I imagined these three who claim to be your friends would bring you here, and as I also imagined you would be hungry, and because anyone can see you are hungry, I started to think hard, now what can I cook these lads? And, you know, I couldn’t think of anything special. The fact is it’s really difficult to get things… And there and then a light went on and I chose the easy option: rice and chicken. What do you reckon?”

“How many chickens, Jose?” enquired the Count.

“Three and a half.”

“And did you add peppers?”

“Yes, for decoration. And cooked it in beer.”

“So three and a half chickens… Do you think that’ll do for us?” The Count went on with his questions, as he pushed Skinny’s chair towards the dining room, with a skill acquired from years of practice.

The final judgement from those round the table was unanimous: the rice could do with green peas, although it tasted good, they added, after ingesting three big plates of rice transfigured by chicken gravy and juices.

They shut themselves up in Skinny’s room for their after-supper rum and chat, while Josefina dozed in front of the television.

“Put something on the deck, Mario,” insisted Skinny, and the Count smiled.

“The same as usual?” he asked, purely for rhetorical pleasure, and got a smile and a nod from his friend.

“You bet…”

“Now then, what do you fancy?” asked one.

“The Beatles?” responded the other.