For disclaimer on Meet the Robinsons, please refer to chapter one.
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Chapter Two: Lefty
Wilbur strutted to the kitchen, pushing his worries to the back of his mind. What he saw was probably nothing serious. He probably just spent one too many times staying up past midnight every week, watching the "Friday Night Horror Movie Fest" on television, and it was just getting to his head. All that needed to be done was to cut back on viewing such morbid films on a regular basis, and he would not have anymore disturbing daydreams and nightmares.
Wilbur pulled down a small pot from a high cupboard, and set it on the stove. He filled the pot with tap water, and pressed the heat button on high. Staring impatiently at the tiny bubbles beginning to form, Wilbur wondered why instant ramen was not more instant than it was, especially in this day and age. He just could not wait to kick back on the couch for the next two hours and watch his favorite classic cartoons, which included Speed Racer, Yu-Gi-Oh!, and Ben 10, not to mention his ultimate favorite cartoon, Captain Time Travel.
The thirteen-year-old had lazily placed the block of hard, uncooked noodles into the simmering pot when he had gotten an eerie chill up his spine. Whipping his head over his shoulder, he looked around the empty, silent (aside from the bubbling pot of ramen) room. Turning his body, he took a few steps forward.
On the island counter, he noticed an elegantly-prepared plate of calamari. Wilbur stuck out his tongue. The sight of the display disgusted him. He hated calamari! His family never ate it, either. After all, their butler, Lefty was an octopus. So why was there a plate of that awful fried stuff?
Then he lifted his head to see a dull silver object, glinting from the sun that peeked through the blinds. A sticky substance covered the object. It must have been blood. Wilbur paled, staring at the blood-covered butcher knife sitting on the counter. Droplets of blood trailed from the knife, down off the counter and onto the floor. Though he was afraid of what the trail would lead him to, Wilbur could not tear himself away and his eyes followed it. The trail led him to a bright violet severed tentacle, freshly cut off.
Lefty.
Wilbur backed away, crashing into the stove, causing the pot to fall over onto the floor, along with hot, boiling water and the cooked noodles spilling all over. Panicked but unharmed, the young teen darted to the kitchen's exit. The door swung open, and Lefty tried to make his way into the room. The boy stared with wide eyes.
"Oh," Wilbur muttered as he glanced down at the mess on the kitchen floor. "I'm sorry, Lefty. I-I'll clean it up."
The purple butler moaned in protest, and so, without fighting the interjection of the insisting butler, Wilbur hastily made his way out of the kitchen. Taking a glance back at the counter and floor, the boy noticed it was clean and empty. No blood, no knife, no calamari. As the teenager turned and headed for the television, he reassured himself once again, "No more late night horror flicks."
End of Chapter Two
27 December 2007