Disclaimer: Me? Own this? Anyone who thinks that way would have to be really, REALLY out of their mind(s).
Author's note: Sorry! Life came in and grabbed me by the throat with a bunch of tests, essays, a family reunion, and mounds of homework. This was the first night that I had time to do any writing. Not to mention that my muse imitated life by grabbing my throat and demanding that I write this. I realize that this isn't as good as a brand new chapter, but it'll have to do for today. And, hopefully, I'll have time to update tomorrow...
Higgins was, once again, sitting in his chair. However, he wasn't staring at a clock this time. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be asleep. Pickering also felt like sleeping, since Mrs. Pearce had decided to wait until AFTER Eliza's wails had stopped being supersonic. That happened to be at six o'clock. Then, Mrs. Pearce explained everything, and Eliza kept weeping with relief until one o'clock. Pickering loved the girl like a daughter, he really did, but even the most dedicated father wants to strangle his child at some point.
"Ggggnnnnxxxxx-COUGH cough hack cough," went Higgins after a particularly painful (and loud) snore. Pickering sighed. He had half a mind to stuff Higgins into his little "anti-Eliza" closet and to go out to a bar somewhere and get drunk. Or buy a ticket back to India today. However, that would be incredibly rude, and Mrs. Pearce would be the only one to prevent Eliza and Higgins getting arrested for disturbing the peace. If Pickering hadn't been there last night when the policemen came... He shuddered, causing the newspaper to crinkle.
Eliza came in and stopped when she saw Higgins asleep. "Are lesson canc'll'd today, colonel?" She whispered. He nodded.
"Oh. Good. I'll jus' go up to my room an' work on my aitches. 'e needs the rest, don't 'e?"
Again, Pickering nodded. She turned to leave.
"Blasted Cockney lobster in a tutu. Looks worse than Eliza at midnight..." Higgins muttered, still asleep. Eliza turned back slightly, grinning like a homicidal maniac with a grudge to settle and a really sharp knife. Pickering suppressed the urge to shudder. That smile would make a shark turn fin to swim as far away as possible and have several recurring nightmares for years. He ran for the door.
"SO YE-OO THINK I LOOK WORSE THAN A BLOODY LOBSTER IN A BLASTED TUTU?! JUS' YE-OO WAIT 'TIL I'M DONE WITH YE-OO, 'ENRY 'HIGGINS!!"
"Ow- Eliza, what do you think- ow- blast- ow- PUT DOWN THAT- OW- BLASTED- OW- CHAIR!"
Pickering winced. He had made it OUTSIDE the house, and he could STILL hear the various thuds, blasts, threats, and yelps. He sighed and walked down the street toward the pub. He could really use several drinks...
Once again, review! I don't care if it's flames, so long as they're sealed in a jar and can't escape to help global warming.