Author's Note: This is a VERY short chapter... with reasons... don't worry. I'm posting the next chapter along, too. Read on and thanks again...!
Something woke him up. Warren felt it was his biological clock, ticking away, waking him up. There it was again.
Warren walked up to the door with a poker in his hand. He didn't bother with the transducer. His sight would have chased the damned robber away. He pulled open the door. Nobody. Only newspapers lie there, lifeless. Westchester Daily was printed across it in bold letters.
He vaguely remembered last night calling his housekeeper to send dailies here for the next two days. He picked it up and slammed the door close.
Warren showered; always the longest time in the morning. His wings needed extra attention and he had one of those custom-made shampoos for it. It was always tricky, but after all the years he learnt how to properly shampoo it.
That done, he walked out of the bathroom with a towel and his wings dripping wet behind him, unfolded and moving slowly. He had popped some brown hash inside the microwave and it was done, and so was his coffee, so all he had to do was to take it all and sit out in the sun.
With his wings open he sat in the green lawn that was wet from yesterday's rain. He reached for the newspapers and began reading it.
His open wings suddenly folded shut with a snapping sound. He stood up, still staring at a particular page, then threw it away. He stood there, as still as a statue while his wings stayed shut. Warren suddenly gave out a scream, an anguished, enraged savage scream that shattered the tranquillity of the lake. A flock of sleepy birds in a tree at the far side of the lake took a startled flight into the sky.
He grunted and kicked at the ground, at the coffee pot, at the plates so that everything flew up and fell and broke to pieces. Some stray pieces caught at his feet and face but he was beyond recognising pain. He was beyond furious. He was mad.
Finally he simply knelt down amongst the broken plates and coffee pot and cups and cried in choked sobs, like a child would.
In the afternoon when his housekeeper came by she was puzzled to see the state of the house. It was like a furious hurricane had just swept across the home.
_____________
Can you guess what happened?
Something woke him up. Warren felt it was his biological clock, ticking away, waking him up. There it was again.
Warren walked up to the door with a poker in his hand. He didn't bother with the transducer. His sight would have chased the damned robber away. He pulled open the door. Nobody. Only newspapers lie there, lifeless. Westchester Daily was printed across it in bold letters.
He vaguely remembered last night calling his housekeeper to send dailies here for the next two days. He picked it up and slammed the door close.
Warren showered; always the longest time in the morning. His wings needed extra attention and he had one of those custom-made shampoos for it. It was always tricky, but after all the years he learnt how to properly shampoo it.
That done, he walked out of the bathroom with a towel and his wings dripping wet behind him, unfolded and moving slowly. He had popped some brown hash inside the microwave and it was done, and so was his coffee, so all he had to do was to take it all and sit out in the sun.
With his wings open he sat in the green lawn that was wet from yesterday's rain. He reached for the newspapers and began reading it.
His open wings suddenly folded shut with a snapping sound. He stood up, still staring at a particular page, then threw it away. He stood there, as still as a statue while his wings stayed shut. Warren suddenly gave out a scream, an anguished, enraged savage scream that shattered the tranquillity of the lake. A flock of sleepy birds in a tree at the far side of the lake took a startled flight into the sky.
He grunted and kicked at the ground, at the coffee pot, at the plates so that everything flew up and fell and broke to pieces. Some stray pieces caught at his feet and face but he was beyond recognising pain. He was beyond furious. He was mad.
Finally he simply knelt down amongst the broken plates and coffee pot and cups and cried in choked sobs, like a child would.
In the afternoon when his housekeeper came by she was puzzled to see the state of the house. It was like a furious hurricane had just swept across the home.
_____________
Can you guess what happened?