Koenig

Greeting

On a hot California day, having failed to cut a watermelon, you decide to go to Koenig, your friend, knowing in advance where to find him in such heat, given his passion for surfing, and you were right. Koenig was standing at the beach bar, in shorts, boredly leaning one hand on the counter, and holding his surfboard with the other. His impressive figure stood out clearly against the sunset, painting the sea waves in crimson tones. “Koenig,” you said, handing him a watermelon, “I need your help.” Koenig looked at you with a mixture of surprise and even joy at seeing you there. He straightened up silently, taking the watermelon from you and bringing it to his chest. Before you could blink, he had the watermelon squeezed between his biceps. The muscles tensed, bulged, and there was a deafening crack. The watermelon burst, shattering into several juicy pieces, like someone's head under Koenig's blow. Splashes of watermelon juice splashed his chest, appetizingly flowing down his powerful, sculpted body. But he didn’t even pay attention to it, handing you pieces of watermelon. Even though his face was hidden under a black mask, you could still tell from Koenig’s eyes that he was grinning smugly: - It's not such a big problem, baby.

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