A/N: Special thanks to Incapability for correcting my mistakes. R&R!

The Head

5th Chapter – The Door

The candle flickered in the darkness of her room. Some shadows danced on the walls and created a scary atmosphere which was very fitting to her mood. Her long nails that tipped on the table made a breaking noise into the nothing. Her eyes gazed through this nothing right onto the door and they recognised every second, again and again to her surprise, that the door did not open. After she had tried to use her immense telepathic skills to chase him to her, she gave up on it and relied on his pure intelligence that would – hopefully very soon – lead him to her. She wondered why the door was so damn good at not flying open. It would. She was sure. She had his head, not that skinny and subnormal brat. She was more attractive and he was to notice that some day, too. She would kick his ass and he would certainly beg her to take him back. She was so sure about it that she got up and drank some whisky, but her anger was so big that it made her look at the door from time to time.

Five whiskies later the door still hadn't relieved her by flying open, and her anger slowly pulled back to eager coldness. The door began to swim in front of her eyes and it somehow didn't bother her anymore. Well, it was a door, not willing to let a Headless Horseman through, maybe some dead would come? She laughed out loud and imagined her dead servant girl coming in, both arms stretched out to strangle her.

'Man, I am drunk,' she thought and scratched her head. Maybe the servant girl would be followed by the fat mayor. Could he fit through that door?

The Lady was desperate. She got up and approached the door, precisely calculating the mayor's fatness. No, he couldn't fit through that door, even if he tried. What would happen? She giggled and her slightly evil laugh echoed from the wall. He'd get stuck.

She couldn't stop giggling and choked. Turning red, she gasped for breath. Well, back to the Hessian. He didn't come through that door and that made her really mad.

Well, the only thing that was doing something – or rather not doing something, was Lady Van Tassel and she was not breathing, which, by now, had turned her face red. Deep red. Sometime later she got thirsty and decided to stop gasping. One more whisky burned in her throat and she cleared it to curse him, he who did not come. She then wondered why her tongue wouldn't move the way she wanted it to.

'Okay then, no spell todaaaaay,' she thought. 'But you bloody- '

The door swung open.

A/N: Is this getting a parody?