"Hierarchy?" Revilla muttered to a passing macaw. "I’ve dealt with the Spanish parliament. I’ve looked into the eyes of bankers and kings. You think a few vines and some humidity frighten me? Listen, my friend, back in Polaciones, we have hills that would make these trees look like toothpicks."

As the chopper climbed, Revilla looked down at the green expanse. He pulled out a pen and opened his journal. He had a new title for the sequel: The Jungle: Why the Monkeys Understand Economy Better than Madrid. If you enjoyed that, let me know if you want: A version of the story A story focusing on the actual contents of his real books A satirical take on Spanish politics in the wild

As they lowered the rescue harness, Revilla paused to finish his chapter. He tapped the 'Close' button on the tablet and tucked it into his vest.

Revilla sat on a fallen log, swiping through the EPUB on his screen. "In the jungle," the text read, "one must respect the hierarchy of nature."

I can to be as funny or as dramatic as you like!

"You see, Gatito ," Revilla said, pointing a finger at the predator, "it’s a matter of infrastructure! Without connection, you are isolated. You’re the king of this forest, but do you have a paved road to the next valley? No!"