Next Installment of The Story Of Herby and Omikron

Omikron started advancing towards Herby, dark green fists clenched, teeth bared. He was thirty feet tall and his fangs were sharp. He was as ugly as anything you might imagine. His voice sounded like an evil Yoda, was lacking in any sensible modulation. 'I told the fish to stay away from your hook,' he said, 'and now, you will never see your next dinner, because you are to be mine.' He opened one of his hands, and at the end of each finger was a gnarly nail as sharp as a sword. 

Omikron was 50 feet away, on the other bank of the river—at a narrow spot in the river—when Herby thought to himself fast, and drew out the slingshot his father had given to 'im as a child, which he had taken for unexpected occasions like this one, leaned down quickly, fingered an elliptical stone, rounded smooth from the river bank, and, with the unconscious action that comes from repeated movements, deposited the stone into the socket of his slingshot, and pulled it back 2 feet. It was a stiff catapult, only made to go back about 1 foot, but Herby was in the mood for killing, and he was full of adrenaline. He said, 'I'll get you, you lousy summa bitch.' Omikron had the face that he knew he was just about to draw his last breath. 

Herby released his right hand from the swing, and suddenly hurling thru the air went the elliptical stone, turning and turning over and again, upside down, right side up, upside down, right side up, upside down. If you could see the movement of the stone through midair in slow motion, that is what you would have seen. That's the way it looked to Omikron. However, his own movements were slowed down, as well, and he could not move his face out of the way, fast enough. The stone made some forward progress thru Omikron's skull, impounding his brain, but first his right eye. Herby heard the crunch and then the squelch of the rock cracking his skull and then smooshing his brain. 'Thank God,' thought Herby, and then he put the slingshot back in his back pocket, and observed Omikron totter and flail feebly as if dizzy or he'd lost his balance, and then fall down. 

'Why'd you do this to me?' was the last thing Omikron was ever heard to say, as if the answer were not obviously that he had threatened Herby's life, and that he had done no wrong, and that it was a total and utter surprise to him. A pool of green ooze coursed out of his head. That was his blood.

Herby was satisfied that the forest was safe, now, that Omikron wouldn't bother him. He just had the fact to contend with that the fish would not go close to his hook anymore due to what Omikron had told them before he died. 'How to catch dinner, now, now that the fish are going to stay away from my hook due to what Omikron told them before he died?'