The carousel needs to be built. Quickly. The Pinna Park re-opening gala is less than a week away. The carousel itself is done and constructed but only three model Yoshi's have been completed. Nowhere near enough. We are running out of time, and out of options.

Then, just four days from the gala, I am called to the head office. The boss has only told me he has an idea, nothing more. I wait in the corridor, pondering what he might say. I am at last called in. The boss tells me he has a way to get the carousel finished on time. He explains his idea and gives me orders that I must follow through on. As I listen, my stomach flips, twists and tries to tear itself in two.

Yoshi's. So easy to find, so easy to kill. So difficult to find any middle ground.

Pinna Park is rife with the fruit that Yoshi's love and that causes them to burst free from their eggs. But the young ones are undisciplined. They run around like headless Goombas and more often than we would like, they end up in the pool. And of course, the young ones cannot swim. They drown before we can even catch up. And then, the process starts over.

It takes us more than a few tries to get it right. And with each failed attempt, I want to be sick. Too much exposure to water, and the Yoshi's bodies quickly disintegrate. It breaks my heart, again and again, to hear the pained wails of the poor dinosaurs as their corpses break down to nothing. I know they will regenerate later inside their eggs, but we are still killing them, one way or another.

The boss has tasked us to expose the poor things to just enough water that they will be left comatose, practically on the very edge of death. Unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even think. When we at last have enough, the workforce carries the bodies out to the carousel whilst I run to the bathroom and finally, violently empty my stomach.

When I have regained my composure a little I join the others outside. I am slightly thankful that they have completed the job in my absence. Numerous bodies are now attached to the carousel by poles, practically indistinguishable from the models. But their unseeing eyes stare back at me, condemning me for what I did to them. These ones will never regenerate.

At last it is finished, my carousel of corpses.