Dree Raincave Did Not Die

That last "story" was a tidbit.  A smokescreen.  Dree Raincave didn't land in a tropical paradise.  He is safe.  He is somewhere.  Even his girlfriend Honey doesn't know where.  Wait.  Do you hear that?  The sound of drums off in a distance.  Let's listen.

Narrator:  Dree RainCave is back in the news today after evading U.S. undercover agents in Hong Kong and a foiled drone strike at the Russian airport in Moscow.  Late last night, Dree was spirited out from the window of a secret lounge and taken by flying reindeer to his new home.  We cannot tell you where it is-- only that the natives are all short and slender.  Their leader is a large woman who keeps beating her husband over his bald head with a rolling pin.  It seems they are Arcadian transplants as she has referred to him as "Mister Klaus" several times and threatened his anatomy while doing so.
               The natives have gathered around Dree RainCave [One short person gave me a cup of what seems to be hot chocolate, whispered to me that the proper spelling of his last name is capital R-a-i-n-no space capital-C-a-v-e before dashing off into the writhing bodies dancing madly around a bonfire.  In the distance, reindeer could be heard jousting for the opportunity to be front-runners of an ancient rickety sleigh.
               This is Flop News reporting to you from the Frozen Nort-- Hey give me back my microphone you midget!  We don't have any money in the budget for a repl--

Elven Aggressor:  That's "elf" to you, media whore.  Dree RainCave has been officially welcomed into our community.  He will be given a private igloo on our property and a job inventing robotic toys at our factory.  Now shove off before I throw the lot of you into the ocean.

Narrator:  Hey!  Give me tha--

          ~plunk~      ~plunk plunk~                     ~plunk

Transmission fades out.  

The Death of Dree RainCave

It was another average day of an average life.  Dree woke up still sleepy.  A large bird of some sort-- he thought perhaps it was a macaw-- circled his hammock and settled on a nearby branch.  Something glittered on the bird's leg.

Dree tumbled out of the hammock and carefully picked his way down the hill to the lagoon.  He stepped out of his gauzy shift and tossed it on a nearby boulder.  "Morning love," his sexy girlfriend Honey said.  She motioned to his waiting coffee.  Dree leaned back again the boulder with his brew, enjoying the sight of her supple nakedness as she washed her long hair in the outdoor shower.  

"Join me Dree," Honey intoned, "there's plenty of water."  Dree set his cup down on the boulder.  He bolted for the shower spray.  "Got you!" he yelled.  He embraced her, breathing deeply of the hibiscus soap she used.  She flipped him over suddenly.  He landed on his back, feeling the wetness of the planks underneath him.

A red feather drifted downward and suddenly everything went dark.  The spray of bullets washed over the lovers.  Up and away the macabre macaw flew, mission accomplished.