After putting his Cadshire Truck, a vehicle that he had purchased over two thousand years ago, that still had a good pur to it, and that still ran as smooth as it had after its purchase, in his garage, then leaving his garage, he heard the characteristic bells that the local mail buggy had on it. With it heading on noon on this fine, December 14 day, it was time for the mail to be delivered and for him to retrieve and then look at it.
For some reason, he turned then dawdled before closing the garage's door; his burgundy truck had a short front and back end on it, and the two exhausts, that were present under the vehicle's undercarriage, were short—like with the way it drove, it glistened and looked like it had just come from the assembly line. The vehicles that were to the left, right, and in front of his truck were also good cars but they weren't really revered in the same light that his Cadshire was. The van-like vehicle to the left of his truck was a new one; it had been purchased fifty years ago—it was mainly used when his entire family went out; due to the vehicle having ten seats in it, all of his family could get in and then enjoy the ride. While he wasn't very fond of the van—it was bulky and quite ugly to the eye—he had seen purpose in it, which was why he had purchased and then brought it home. His wife had a license to drive, yes, but what was a family outing when one spouse drove part of the family in one vehicle while the other had the other half of the family in another? The van had a burgundy front-end while the rest had been painted to look like wood; the top could hold bulky suitcases, or picnic boxes and bikes—most of the time, it was the two latter items that were placed on the top of the vehicle. The driver's and front passenger windows were very normal while the ones behind them were a little smaller and darkly tinted.
The vehicle to the right side of his Cadshire was also new—unlike the van, which was family-owned, this vehicle was owned by one of the members of his family... which he was damn glad for. Amadh, his secondborn son, had gotten a liking for the Shebie vehicle sometime after acquiring his driver's license; he had asked time and again on when he'd be "allowed" to gain his help in getting one of the vehicles and he, for all of fifteen hundred years, had put up excuse after excuse in either saying that there were no funds available on him for such a car or that he was too busy to help him. After fifteen hundred years passed, he had "helped" his son in getting the vehicle that was in the garage—Amadh's car was dark blue in color; it had a white stripe on its sides, and a double white stripe on its hood and trunk, and it had big tires, a single exhaust, a long front-end, and a short back-end on it. Amadh, despite being a rather goofy and warm-hearted fellow, took very good care of his car—which he was glad for; he wouldn't of purchased the car for him if not for his noticing how well his son was in regards to the other cars that were owned by the family.
The vehicle that was beside the Shebie was Efagti's—he was glad that his oldest son had taken after him in vehicles otherwise, he might well of gone crazy. Efagti's vehicle was a dark green color; the front resembled his Cadshire's in appearance while its back-end was longer than his Cadshire's. Most of the time, when he and his son went to market for feed for the animals, they piled the bags of oats and other feed in his Cadshire before going on to put the single-purchased hay bales in Efagti's car's trunk. He had only one beef with the car and that was its tires—they were big; his son liked to drive on them muddy roads so, after purchasing the vehicle, he had made a point in purchasing some mud-tires for it. To him, the tires made the truck look silly—the truck's body was held up pretty high because of them, and the truck didn't seem to match the tires that had been put on it. Whenever one of the animals—a sheep, a goat, or one of the Almas—needed a faster than usual trip to the vet, it was his son's truck that was used to get them to the building that they needed to go to.
"Like with Amadh, who worked his ass off to pay me back for what I paid on his car, Efagti stayed "on-contract" with me on paying me back for my "services" in getting him his vehicle." he thought before turning his gaze towards the next vehicle in the garage.
Course, his sons hadn't been "required" to pay him back for his helping them in getting their vehicles; it had still been good, though, to see that they were a responsible lot and that they weren't using him for his wallet.
The Cadshire, the Shebie, the Furd, and the van were considered to be either "men's cars" or cars that had purpose; the vehicles that were parked before them were what he and his two grown sons called the "women's" cars.
His lovely wife's dark purple Himiko, a sleek vehicle that had two seats in the front while only having one in the back, was the first vehicle that he looked at. He had purchased this car for his wife about a thousand years ago; after being crushed by her embrace, and then "drowned" by her kiss, he had said that she was, on no uncertain circumstances, to ever consider or worry about paying him back for it—Ashaklar was his wife, he was suppose to buy her things, and spoil her, and take care of her. She treated her Himiko very well; it was washed, and then waxed, twice a week and it was also taken in for maintenance once every three to four months. He made sure to purchase the car new tires each year and he also made sure to buy her two spares—no need for her to get a flat and then run the risk of being picked up by one who had wrong intentions in mind after pulling over to see if she "needed" his assistance.
The car that was beside his wife's belonged to his stepdaughter; after her old one reached the end of its life cycle, he had done the honors of getting her another to replace it. Qeeta's father, DuruVile Surfeit, was a real mess of a man who treated everyone like dirt and who didn't seem to care a lick for any of his offspring—while he had already known too much about the man, and had already harbored feelings of dislike towards him, he had gained a new reason to loathe him after his stepdaughter's old car went out on her. Qeeta had placed a call to the man, then had told him that her car was down and out, and that she needed his assistance in getting it either repaired or in getting a "halfway" decent replacement for it... had he come back as saying that he'd help her in getting it repaired enough for another 50,000 miles, or that he'd help her in getting a replacement for it? No; he had come back as saying I've got bigger things to worry about than getting your car replaced or repaired.
The man could of come over to look at the car; he could of tried to do a half-ass repair on it or he could of thrown a decent amount of cash down for it to be repaired by a real mechanic or replaced. Instead of doing either, he had gotten on his daughter for "wanting his assistance in something". The man was pretty wealthy, and he could well of gotten his daughter's car either repaired or replaced; instead, he had yelled at her and then told her to not call or bother him about it.
If Qeeta had been one of the daughters that her father seemed to have a better relationship with she would of probably gotten her car repaired or replaced without having to hear much verbal abuse being thrown at her; since she was the daughter of Ashaklar Zoopray, and since she lived with innocent ol' Cheshire Ubalki, and since she regarded innocent ol' Cheshire Ubalki as her stepfather, she was to take care of herself—he had known this too well, which was why he had gone and purchased her the LuxDux2. Qeeta's car was a nice and shiny, black and silver color; the doors swung up instead of out and it was semi-remote controllable. If Qeeta was loaded down with bags, she could press the button that was on her key-ring, which would unlock the doors and trunk and which would also free up the trunk's hood.
His stepdaughter had been very appreciative towards him for his purchase; along with offering to drive him around in the car she had also given him more than enough hugs to last a lifetime. The man who was her father, after learning that he had purchased her a car to replace the old one with, had called him up and then gotten on him for turning his "nicely bred and taught girl into a spoiled rotten brat". Was that the intended reason to his purchase? Qeeta was a good girl; she didn't demand cash from anyone, she didn't buy a whole store out when she went out shopping, and she didn't go out to shop all the time. She was a big help on the farm, and she was a big help in the house, and she was nice and decent; to him, his stepdaughter was far from spoiled rotten.
"Cheshire," he heard his wife call out for him. After hearing her voice, and noting that she wasn't in the house, he closed the garage door then turned around. After turning around, he saw that she was descending the porch steps and that she had a pail in her hands. He was fast in thinking that she had chicken or duck feed in the pail after seeing her as having it on her person. "Can you get the mail for me please? I'm a trifle bit busy at the moment."
"Of course, Ashie." Cheshire replied loud enough for his wife to hear.
He went down the beaten path, that was before the garage, and that, after elbowing to the left, was between the white picket fence, that surrounded the house that he and his lived in, and the long white fence that went to the horse pasture, after being asked to retrieve the mail; after going a few paces, he turned onto the property's long driveway. Just a week ago, after a big storm blew in, that did more than blow out a window in the house, and fling dirt and dust around, the gravel had been replaced in the driveway—the smell to the newly placed gravel was as intoxicating as could be for him, which he found himself as liking.
During the property's design and then construction, he had decided against putting the pastures and paddocks behind the house; he had been born on a plantation, and he had been bred by plantation owners, so it had been quite easy for him scrap the original plan of putting the pastures and paddocks behind the house. The decision to keep the back for produce while leaving the front and sides for the animals had been a grand one—which he was still seeing more than enough benefits from.
The white picket fence had been put around the house almost immediately after the house's construction was complete; it had a gate on its front and back and it housed a small chicken coop and chicken area in it—his wife was one for birds and she had two types of birds on the property. The pastures and paddocks, that were to the left, right, and before the house, were separate of one another—each species of animal was content with its own kind and with the piece of land that it had been given to roam. The paddock that the flock of brown, white, and purple sheep were in was closest to the house while, beside it, was the Alma paddock—the seemingly lazy-acting animals, that grew thick wool coats one to two times a year, and that needed their teeth floated every six months, and that spat and kicked something fierce, were just as content as their sheep cousins. The paddock that was below and between them belonged to the goats—the funny-looking breed of knee-high, black and white goats roamed and were quite happy in this pen. All three of the paddocks had barns, hay sheds, and good grass in them.
The sheep and goats had really been it for the property's paddocks; the Almas had come later—after his adoptive grandson's birth later, meaning—and the same went with the Zeeduun ducks that inhabited the semi-fenced area that was beside the driveway. His wife had grown a fancy for the breed of bird, which was an all black color, but that was as bare of feathers as could be, and he, being the man that he was, hadn't been able to keep himself from buying her a couple of them; Ashaklar had started off as having five ducks... that number had grown and decreased in size over the years for various reasons. While the ducks approached his wife willingly, and seemed to like her, they ran whenever they saw him coming—most of the time, when he went towards them, it was to do a quick count of the flock and then collect, crate, and then sell the surplus animals that weren't needed on the property. He did try his best to keep the flock's numbers down to fifteen—to do this, he caught and then sold the males more than he did the females. Like with the sheep, goats, and Almas, the Zeeduun ducks had their very own barn in their semi-closed off area—the pond that was in their area was big enough to accommodate them; until seeing his daughter, Blaiga, tossing and then getting a playful reaction from the birds with her rubber ball toys the pond had been bare and plain in appearance. Due to it having four rubber ball toys in it, it looked a little odd.
"And, in the small pen that's beside the goat paddock, is a small group of Micro Pigs." he thought while going down the driveway.
Blaiga had gained an interest in the Micro Farm Pig after Shillah Oislon, the closest neighbor to them, showed her the two pigs that she had gotten. Blaiga had hounded him for days on getting one, and he had been firm in telling her no—he wasn't a pig man; the animals ate like crazy, they stunk, they made a mess of the ground in their given enclosure, and they were very good in escaping from the area designated for them. He had spoken to Davav, Shillah's husband, about the pigs after day four of being hounded about the animals and he had learned that the man's wife's animals had already escaped their pen numerous times; Davav had confided in him his annoyance over having to chase down the pigs and over having to continuously fill in the holes that he found that were near the fence of the animals' pen—this, along with his feelings towards the animals, was the reason to why he hadn't gone right out to get his daughter her much desired piglets.
To have his daughter's pigs escape their pen, then roam the countryside, and then having to chase after, corral, and then retrieve and bring them back wasn't needed; the same went with the neighborhood being taken over by wild pigs that had formerly been domestic. He wasn't about to let a pig be bought and then kept in the house either. He wasn't a stupid man by any means—he knew that some people sold pigs that they labeled as potbelly or micro pigs when they really weren't and he also knew that some pigs were aggressive and could inflict injury to both the members of their group and to their caretakers. He wasn't about to have a two hundred plus pound pig roaming the house, tearing things up and driving him and his family crazy and he for damn sure wasn't about to have an aggressive pig tearing up his daughter either.
His daughter had been crushed after learning that he was steadfast in not getting her her pigs but she had gotten over it; a father had to know when to say no to his children and, while he did like to spoil his children, he did teach them right from wrong. About eight months after the decision on his daughter not getting any pigs was made, an advertisement on pig-proof fencing was seen on the tv—it was said to keep in domestic pigs and also keep out the wild ones. He had checked into it, and had made a few crude observations on the already implemented ones in the nearby farms; everyone that he had spoken to about the fencing had said that it was spot-on to what the advertisement had said it was and he had also seen that it did wonders in keeping the pigs inside their pens and in keeping their predators and wild brothers and sisters from getting in to mess with them—with this knowledge under his cap, he had purchased more than enough of the fence and then rigged it up. The barn had just been built when the pigs were bought—instead of getting just one or two, and instead of buying just one gender, he had purchased four and he hadn't restricted himself to getting plain boys or girls. Three girls and a boy had been purchased on that day—all four had been fixed, so no babies had come from them after they matured enough to get an interest in propagating.
His daughter had been and was still thrilled with the animals; she took care of them very well, and it looked like her pets were thriving under her care and were very happy with their way of life.
"And all of that is to the left of the house; the pasture before the house, and the ones that're to the right of the house, are inhabited by the horses, ponies, and cows."
To the left of the driveway was the pony pasture; it was big enough to accommodate a herd of fifteen animals but, at the moment, there were just seven ponies that called it home. The stallion to this herd, who was currently on the pasture's "king hill", munching away on grass, was a black and white pinto while his mares were sorrel, bay, and palomino; the bay and white pinto yearling belonged to the bay mare while the palomino pinto yearling belonged to the palomino mare, the one foal in the pasture belonged to the sorrel mare, who hadn't had a foal last year.
The pasture to the driveway's right belonged to the regular horses; there were nine animals in this pasture and all were finely built, sleek, and beautiful to the eye. The stud to the herd was a nice and shiny black; his face was split down the middle by a stripe. The stallion governed over a herd of three mares, two yearlings, and a two-month old foal; the mares were either palomino, sorrel and white, or bay in color. One of the yearlings had taken after his sire by being solid black while the other was a bay pinto; the pasture's lone foal was a dark palomino color. The sorrel pinto mare and the bay mare were both heavy in the belly—they were nearing the end of that year's pregnancy. If things played out to what he had planned, he was to sell the pasture's two yearlings to one of the neighbors in a few months—he had yet to decide on what to do with that year's foals.
The largest of the property's pastures was to the extreme right of the property; about twenty head of cattle resided in the enclosure—due to their being in the pasture's stationed barn, and either being halfway or nearly finished in being milked, none were out and about.
The stallion in the horse pasture followed him as he went down the driveway; he was just reaching the mailbox, that was rustic in appearance, and that looked like one of them old dress trunks, when the mail buggy pulled up. His stallion was fast in snorting at the gray mule that pulled the buggy; when the mule didn't return his snort, or acknowledge him with another vocalization, the stallion turned tail then trotted away.
"Mr. Ubalki, nice to see you." Tafflong Venal, a male Zetakin who had dark blue skin and large, circular-shaped eyes that were a shiny silver color, said while reaching into the buggy's back. "How's the wife and children today?"
"Both doing well. Looking forward to harvest season, and to the new foals that're expected to come soon, and to, of course, being told that they can go over to my stepson's place to see him and his children." Cheshire replied. "Honestly, I'm looking forward to the latter more than the two former items that they're looking forward to."
"Mr. Surfeit is your stepson, right?"
"Yes,"
"He was seen in Baf-az town two days ago." Tafflong said. "His wife, Angel Irene, and one of their sons was said to be with him."
"Yes, we saw the report on their being on the planet when it aired two days ago." Cheshire replied.
"I have several packages and letters for you and your family." Tafflong Venal said. Four packages—two small, one large, and one that was medium-sized—were removed from the buggy's back and then given over; the packages had no more been relinquished before the man grabbed the ten envelopes that had the Ubalki home address on them from his mail bag. He gave the envelopes to Cheshire then he grabbed the reins that went to his buggy. "Have a nice day, Mr. Ubalki. Tell the missus that I said hello."
"I will, thank you." Cheshire said. He saw Tafflong Venal off then he turned towards the house that he and his lived in.
The house that he was walking towards was large—huge, if one wished to use that term in regards to it; to him, it was a plain, simple house that gave him and his shelter and that they loved living in. Around thirty or so people could take up residence in the house; at the moment, only nine were present to take up the available rooms that were in it. While he and his family had a small staff working for them they didn't live with them—the men and women that worked for him and his lived in their own abodes somewhere in the nearest town.
The structure was a light brown color; the windows in the front were plentiful while the porch was large and spacious. Two benches, two rocking chairs, and a swing were all housed on this white-painted porch. Before the porch, in the flowerbeds, were pink and yellow star-shaped rose bushes; a bird feeder on a post, and a set of chimes, were to either side of the porch steps—his wife had been the brains of the steps' design. The steps were built high, and were thin; while initially thinking that they'd not work, and that they'd need to be replaced, he had found himself as liking their unique design almost immediately after they were added to the porch. The main door to the house was made of heavy cherry wood while the door that was before it was nothing more than a plain, normal screen door.
After appearing before the white picket fence, he moved what he had just gotten from Mr. Venal from one arm to the next then reached forward; he pushed the fence's front gate open, then he closed it after entering the fenced-in yard that surrounded the house, then he went towards the porch.
The chicken coop, that was to the far left of the fenced-in yard, housed around eleven birds; the three birds that were on the coop's roof were yellow and feather-fluffy in appearance, the birds that were around the coop, either pecking at the ground, looking for insects or grass seed or that last kernel of corn, were either brown, purple, or red in color—like with the birds that were perched on the coop's roof, these were also feather-fluffy in appearance.
After reaching the first step of the porch, he shifted the mail that he had in his arms again; he went up the steps quickly, then he opened the screen, and then the main door of the house, then went into the house afterwards.
"Qhuakiz, don't run in the house." Cheshire said after seeing that his youngest son was running towards him.
"Daddy gotted da mal!" Qhuakiz said excitedly.
The vocabulary possessed by a toddler, and the way that a toddler spoke... when his older children had been the age that Qhuakiz was, he had had a hard time in not shaking his head and laughing whenever they spoke—this was non-different now.
Qhuakiz was his youngest child and son; at the moment, he was three hundred and ninety-three years old—he acted like any other toddler would. His toys would be thrown or left all over the place, he sometimes refused to eat certain foods given to him, he sometimes refused to go to bed when the appropriate time for him to go to sleep came around, he was rather emotional and too-loud from time to time, and he did tend to get both babied around and disciplined more than his other children were—regardless of these things, he loved him and cherished any amount of time that he was allowed to spend with or around him.
He looked at his son then smiled; Qhuakiz looked like a combination of him and his wife. His son's eyes, which were oval in shape, were bronze in color—the shape had come from his mother while the color had come from him—and he had medium-blue skin—this had come from his wife's side of the family. At the moment, his son was just four feet tall—if he had to make any guesses, Qhuakiz would reach a height of six foot two inches when he reached his teenage years. At the moment, his son was wearing a pair of blue overalls; the red t-shirt, that he was also wearing, was a bit messy. There was nothing on his feet.
Qhuakiz didn't know how to read or write just yet, and he knew the bare basics of house etiquette; most of the time, he played with his toys, or created "havoc" in the house, or ran up to see what one in his family was doing before yawning and then running off to another part of the house. Qhuakiz tried to get him to pick him up, then he tried to grab the mail from his arms after he found that his demand wasn't being done; when he refused the second command that his son issued to him, his son made a face then ran off to "parts unknown". With himself now lacking his son's presence, he went towards the living room.
"Unlike the man who use to be my wife's husband, who flat-out refused to let her partake in decorating or designing any portion of the house that she was to live in, I allowed her to design, and decorate, nearly half of this place." he thought after entering the living room.
The S-shaped couch, that had taken the place of the old one after the old one went out on them, had been purchased almost two hundred years ago; after ordering it from one of the mailed catalogs, then receiving it, she had spent somewhere around two to three hours in "directing" him and two of their male staff in where she wanted it to go. He and them two men had grown a bit frustrated with her continuous calls for the piece of furniture to be moved from one part of the room to the next but they hadn't voiced it—Ashaklar had been very excited after getting that piece of furniture, and hadn't been able to make up her mind on where it was going to go, and both he and them two men had known it. The couch was a mostly dark gray color; the cushions were a little lighter gray color and were right soft and firm. There were two sections to the couch; the first faced the front of the room while the other faced the room's back.
A light oak table, that had a single drawer on it, was near the couch's two base-curve areas; the phone that was on the table's surface was a mostly light gold color. The chrome floral designs that were on the phone were very shiny. A notepad, with a pen and pencil, was in the table's drawer—he was one who often forgot the numbers that came in so his family, and female staff, made an effort in writing down the numbers that frequently called the house.
The couch, table, and phone weren't the only items in the room; the two, mostly brown-colored elegant chairs, that had white cushions on their backs and seats, were to either side of the room. A 50" screen was mounted on the room's front-facing wall; the white stone bench, that was under the screen, had four vases on it—two of the four were normal in shape and design while the other two had a sort of Tulip-like effect to them. Each of these vases had yellow and blue flowers in them.
Vases were one of his wife's favorite things; she claimed that they brought a room out, and made it brighter—despite the fact that he was of the male gender, he did have to agree with this claim of hers.
After taking a seat on the room's stationed couch, he placed the mail on the long, dark walnut table that was before the couch. He started the process of sifting through the mail afterwards.
"Bills are a bit late in getting here this month." he thought after finding that the electric, cable, internet, phone, and water bills were all present in that morning's sent mail. The insurance bills for his and his family's health care plan, for his life insurance, and for the property and vehicles were all missing—he made a note to call the companies that them bills came from to see what was up with the absence of them bills.
One of the sent packages contained a piece of jewelry—he was never one to open a piece of mail that wasn't his so he left the package alone after seeing that Qeeta's name was on it. Curiously, Ashaklar and Blaiga had packages from the same business that Qeeta had ordered something from—like with the package that had Qeeta's name on it, he placed them to the side. For some reason, Qhuakiz had a package as well. Crazy Bek's Toy Factory? He made a note to speak with his wife about this piece of mail—Qhuakiz, while having a right in receiving mail, was much too young to be sending mail out... and his birthday was several months away.
He had gotten several school applications—due to his having an education in being a teacher, and due to his having been a teacher in the far distant past, he was always getting mail from schools that wanted him on their faculty. He had plans to use the paper shredder, that was in his office, after looking at/reading the rest of what had come in the mail—he hadn't been employed as a teacher in thousands of years, and he was no longer interested in being a teacher, so there was no use in his keeping the school faculty applications.
He had spent a hundred years on the payroll of Afaab High School before the urge to own his own land, and then plant and mine that land, came to him; he had taken a ten-year absence from teaching at the school and then, after discovering that ten of his one hundred acres of land had oil on them, he had put in the formal retirement slip. Twelve months after the oil was discovered he had come across a very rare, valuable, and fashionable material that had assured him rich for life—as if finding oil, and being made a millionaire almost overnight, wasn't good enough he had found himself as finding Gold Glass on his purchased lands. His mines were still putting out more than enough Gold Glass a year, and he still planted the land that nothing had been found as being either on or in; he was very happy with where he stood in life.
His branch of the Ubalki family was among Zeta Ren's most prominent families; they, for the most part, were plantation owners—he had been raised to be one of these very simple, and respectful, and responsible people almost from the moment he had been born. Even though he was rich for life, he didn't go around, throwing his cash around or buying this thing or that thing that he saw. He was a modest liver—he didn't buy a car a month; he didn't own ten or more houses; and, while he did go to and spend a little money in the nearby auctions, he wasn't a frequent tender to the auction scene.
To him, he had everything that he'd ever want and need right here—a beautiful wife, six children, two stepchildren, and a good property to live and raise his family on.
The bills were put to the side then the hand-written letters from family and friends were looked at; the first had come from his sister, Clerabia—she was the only one of his family that he heard from. His parents, and his younger brother, had disowned him after learning that he was continuing with his ambition in being a miner, and a farmer, instead of keeping his former job of being a teacher—he had used a little of what his family had in their vault to acquire his one hundred acres; after learning that he had used what was in the family vault on land, and then after learning what that land's purchase was for, they had demanded that he sell what he had purchased, then put the money that he had used to acquire it with back in the vault, then forget about mining. They had been fine with his being a farmer but, when it came to mining... well, they hadn't much liked that. He had put the money back into the family vault right after being made a millionaire then he had wiped his hands of most of them.
His wife's younger brother, Cluebron, had written and so had a few family friends. He was in the process of taking his pocketknife out from its stationed pocket when his eye landed on the envelope that had his stepson's address on it; after taking this envelope up, he saw that there was another in the pile that had the same address on it—this second envelope had the word Express stamped on it and it also had four stamps on it. After taking the second envelope up, he saw that it had a stamp on it that claimed that it had been mailed nearly two days ago.
"Something's up," he thought. "Tazir would never send a normal letter and then follow it up with an express-sent one."
Despite this thought of his, he still leaped for the roof after opening the first of the two envelopes that had his stepson's name and address on them—the invites, that he and his family had been looking forward to getting, were found as being in the envelope. While wanting to yell for his family to get inside, and then to pack enough for a few days to a week, he sustained himself from doing so—if what was in the Express-sent envelope was normal, and nothing dire, he'd do that; if something was up, he'd be calm in telling his family what was going on then act according to what that discovered something was.
After opening the second envelope, then evicting its contents, he started reading. He was both relieved and a little nerved over what the single sheet of paper had on it.
Dear Stepper,
You and your family need to expedite your arrival; one of my butlers, a few days ago, accidentally mailed out twenty invitations that shouldn't of gone out yet. Due to the accidental mailing of them invites, I'm expecting more than nine to make an appearance and then reside in my residence—they're all expected to be here in a matter of days, sadly.
The action of the other invitations going out in the mail is purely on me; instead of putting them away, I left them out on my desk. My butler, who had just returned from injured leave, didn't know that they weren't suppose to be mailed out—I'm not holding him 100% accountable for this mishap. Angel and the boys, and Eshal, know what's going on and are looking forward to you, your family's, and Qeeta's arrival.
Sincerely yours,
Tazir
He and his stepson, TazirVile Lajoshu Surfeit, had a great relationship between themselves—the two of them owed the respect that they harbored for one another for this. His stepson's father, who was also Qeeta's father, had treated him very badly when he had been growing up and, by all appearances, he was still treating him badly. The man, though no longer resulting to physical abuse towards his son, was still very verbally abusive towards him; Tazir had all matter of scarring on his body to account for all that he had endured as a child and teenager. At the time that his stepson's father returned to the Known World, and that Angel Irene became apart of the Surfeit family, Tazir had been pretty low in self esteem and confidence—after gaining Angel as a wife, and then after siring his first child from her, he had gained a lot of confidence and self esteem in himself.
From what he had heard, Tazir was being very wise in how he was handling himself around his sons, who had only just been returned to being under his roof and in his, and his daughter's, life. Tazir was letting them settle in, and get use to the sights, sounds, and smells of his house; he was being slow around and with them; and he was being patient and understanding towards them and their needs. Ashaklar had been the one to put the bug in his ear about the front gate and fence of his stepson's property being flanked by reporters and she had also been the one to tell him about what happened between Bile, Hazaar, and the reporters who had come in from the sea—Bile and Hazaar had been exploring the property's backyard at the time; they hadn't done a single thing to warrant the reporters' brash move on them or the vast disrespect that had been given to them. A few areas of disrespect had been shown by the boys—Hazaar slugging a fist at his father, and catching him in the jaw; Hazaar and Lazeer getting lost while exploring the house, then fighting one another after succumbing to their hysteria over being lost; and Lhaklar challenging his father for starters—but, from what he had been able to piece together of what he had been told, Tazir wasn't sweating any of what had been shown to him in the disrespect department.
Bile, according to his wife, was now acting like he was fully calm and settled in his new living arrangements; Lhaklar was also acting this way while the two younger boys had yet to do so.
"Hope that them accidentally sent invitations don't undo all of what Tazir's gained with Angel and the boys." he said in a very low voice after standing from the S-shaped couch.
He wasn't about to think or speak bad of his stepson, or of the butler who had mailed the twenty invitations out—the mailing of them invites was a mistake, and everyone was entitled to making a handful or two of mistakes in their lifetime. He knew that he and his had been the first ones on his stepson's mind to receive invites to his place and he knew that the express-sent letter had been sent with this in mind—Tazir could well of let him and his show up and then tell them about what was going on, or he could well of just let them get their invites and then come over without telling them a thing of what was going on; instead of doing either of them things, he had sent a letter explaining the situation. It was good to know that he and his family weren't about to show up somewhere without knowing what was going on and it was also good to know that he and his family were important enough to warrant such a swiftly sent letter explaining the present situation.
With the two items of extreme importance open and then read and acknowledged, and with the present situation now known to him, he went towards the front of his home. He left the house, then he grabbed the bucket that was sitting casually to the porch steps' side, then he started banging on it.
His wife, who had just gotten through feeding her ducks, turned to look at the house while their two adult sons, who were coming from the cows' barn, gave one another a crisp look before breaking into a trot. Phaggo, his and his wife's mid-teenage son, who was sitting in the pony pasture, throwing a yellow baseball up, into the air, and then catching it, stood then started towards the house slowly while Blaiga, his and his wife's mid-teenage daughter, who had just gotten through feeding her pigs, ran towards the house. His stepdaughter, who was behind the house, checking the clothes that were on the line, was the last of his family to start towards the house.
"Cheshire, what in the whole wide Universe..." Ashaklar Ubalki, who had been born under the surname of Zoopray, said after reaching the porch. Her husband looked right calm and content; one of his feet was propped on one of the porch railings while the other was firmly placed on the porch. She could detect no reason for him to make such a loud ruckus.
"Defe inside?" Cheshire asked her.
"Yes—probably playing." Ashaklar replied.
"We need to pack, and get ready to leave for Moas, now." Cheshire said for all in his family to hear. "The invite for us to go over to Tazir's place for a while was received today—there's been a complication. A mishap. We need to go and quickly."
Ashaklar, who, unlike her oldest son and daughter, was a pureblood Zetakin, gave her husband a hard, serious look. Instead of speaking more on the subject that he had just disclosed to them, and instead of being all excited about the invite for their going over to spend some time with their just-returned family, he was being vague on what was going on and he was also being as calm as could be. From what she was able to make out, an issue had come up with her oldest son and they were needed to pack up and then relocate from Zeta Ren to Moas lickity split—she found this to be quite odd.
Cheshire Keueitt Ubalki, her second husband, and, she hoped, the only other man that she'd be involved with, had married her sixty-one thousand, six hundred years ago; the love between them was still being felt and expressed daily—she still revered him as being a fine, and very handsome, man.
He was a tall man, standing at six foot, three inches; his skin was both leather tough and a dark blue color. The eyes that looked out from his face were almond-shaped and bronze in color; he had inherited one of the ailments that most in their species had—thanks to the photo sensitivity of his left eye, he wore a goggled monocle, which she personally thought made him look even more handsome.
He had a lot of muscle on his arms, back, and chest; the rest of him was slender. He was wearing a pair of black corduroy pants, that had a dark gray belt around their waist; the long sleeve, button down shirt, that was over his top half, was a light gray color. The vest that was worn over the shirt was a faint gray color; the gold chain, that ran from the vest's left breast pocket, and that ran down to the left pocket of his pants, contained a gold box on one of its ends—her husband was an avid snuff chewer and he just so happened to have some in that box. While he did smoke he wasn't one to do so on a frequent basis—only when a special occasion came around, or when he was stressed out, did he take time out to indulge in a smoke. The boots that were on his feet were very normal in appearance; they were a medium gray color, which, she thought, contrasted well with the rest of what he was wearing.
" 'scuse me while I dig out my suitcase and then fill it." Efagti Izorot Ubalki, her and her husband's oldest son and child, said before ascending the porch and then disappearing into the house.
Efagti, who was forty-seven thousand, four hundred, and fifty-nine years old, looked most like his father. His skin, which was tough over his body, was a dark blue color; the eyes that were in his face, which were large and oval-shaped, and silverish-bronze in color, had come from her—er, expect for the color. That had come from the both of them. The way his body was designed was what set him apart from his father—he didn't only have muscle on his chest, back, and arms but also on his lower body too. Her son had gotten all of this from working the farm—from working the animals; holding the mini horses so his father could give them their shots, or trim their hooves; from leading the bigger horses to their barns; from heaving and then tossing heavy bales of hay from one place to another; from toting pails of oats, or other animal feed; from helping when shearing time came around for the sheep and Almas; from milking the cows and goats; and from helping with the fields when harvesting time came around.
Her oldest son from her second marriage was a very level-headed, and calm-based, man who knew well how to act around others and how to act in public. Her oldest son was wearing a pair of blue jeans; the belt that was around their waist was black and leather. The shirt that was over his top half was blue while the shoes that were on his feet were black and normal in appearance.
She and her family heard nothing more of this child of hers after he entered the house; it seemed that Efagti had no more entered the house before one of his siblings spoke and then started the process of following him.
"My 'case was only half unpacked, so I'll have him beat in packing in nothing flat." Amadh Azuknor Ubalki said while ascending the porch steps.
Amadh, her secondborn son from her second married, who was thirty-five thousand, twelve years old, was usually the comical one in her family—no hint of comedy was present in his voice after he spoke and he made no joke-like gestures after ascending the porch. She thought this as strange for a second or two before shrugging her shoulders then latching onto the idea that he was both tired from milking the cows and excited over finally being able to see and interact with his nephews.
Amadh, like Efagti, looked most like his father; he had dark blue skin, that was pulled tight over his body, and almond-shaped eyes—the shape of his eyes had come from his father while the bright silver coloration that was present to them had come from her. He, like his brother, was tall; while his chest and arms were well-muscled his lower half was slender and graceful in appearance. He was wearing a pair of dark green pants; the t-shirt that was over his top half was a stained green color while the boots that were on his feet were brown.
After Amadh entered the house, then started his routine in going to his room and then fixing up his suitcase, she turned her attention to her and her husband's thirdborn son.
"Go and get your things packed, Phaggo." Ashaklar said after seeing that her thirdborn son was dawdling in going to the house.
"How long are we staying with Tazzy?" Phaggo asked.
"A while—best pack enough for a week." Cheshire replied, then reiterated what he had said. "That's seven of everything." he had no more said this before deciding to retract a bit of his statement. "Er, scratch that. Bring only two pairs of shoes—normal and boot."
Phaggo Kokub Ubalki looked more like her than his father—while the complexion of his skin had come from his father the rest shouted her. His eyes were large, oval in shape, and a shiny silver color; due to how his skin had a graceful stretch to it, and looked a little feminine in appearance, Amadh was one to frequently crack jokes about his being a girl in disguise. The gentle look that was in his eyes said that he was calm, cool, and collected—which was very true; he did have a calm, cool, and collected demeanor. He'd not hurt a flea, much less start a fight. This son of hers was two thousand, seven hundred, and thirty-four years old—very young; he still had a while to go before becoming a full grown adult. He was wearing a white, button down, short sleeve shirt; the pair of black jeans, that were on his lower half, had a dark brown belt around their waist. The shoes that were on his feet were brown and very normal in appearance.
Phaggo said nothing more after getting the word on what he was to do; he went into the house then he went upstairs to begin the process of packing himself a suitcase. His younger sister, Blaiga Sarewelba Ubalki, was fast in following on his heels.
"Just don't clip any heels while going up the stairs please." she wished silently after they went into the house.
"You two next," Cheshire said after seeing that she and Qeeta were the only two to still be outside the house.
"Is it bad?" Ashaklar asked after entering the house. Qeeta was fast in walking around her and in going up to the room that she had been given.
"Nope, nothing bad." Cheshire replied. "Due to one of Tazir's staff accidentally mailing out several invitations a few days ago, we have to break rear in packing and then getting over there before the other invitees arrive."
"That's it?" Ashaklar said. She let her husband go past her before swinging her hand; Cheshire stopped, then turned to look at her after her hand "slapped" the back of his shoulder. "That's for scaring me! You made it sound like my son was in trouble, or got hurt, or that something had happened to one of our grandchildren."
"No, I'd of said for everyone to drop everything and then teleport to his mansion, or to whatever hospital he or one of the kids are in, if that had been what was going on." Cheshire replied.
Instead of packing their suitcases normally, they said a spell that'd get them packed faster; all of what they either needed or wanted to have was put in the two cases, then they were closed up tight before being grabbed and then hoisted from the bed. She and her husband did the packing for Defe and Qhuakiz after their suitcases were squared away—after putting in a few second pause to think things over about what their two, younger children needed and wanted to bring with them, they decided to put some of their toys in a box; there was no need in Defe or Qhuakiz getting bored while being at Tazir's and there was no need in Tazir, or one of his children, being driven up a wall by the two's cranky antics over having nothing to do while visiting them.
When the packing was done, they grabbed what had been packed then went downstairs; Defe and Qhuakiz followed at their sides the entire time they were descending the stairs. After finishing their descent, they started the process of waiting for their other children to join them.
During the wait, Cheshire retrieved and then stowed the mail in his suitcase; he was just zipping his suitcase up when Qeeta, Efagti, Amadh, Phaggo, and Blaiga came down. A note was written for the staff, which told them the basics on their being at Tazir's place and on their continuing as they were until word from one of them was received, then they teleported; they appeared before the door to her oldest son's abode a second later.
Her husband wasted no time in reaching his hand forward to knock on the door or in shaking his shoulders; she found herself so excited over being here that she could barely stand still—when she turned to look at her children, she saw that they were also having a time in standing still. It took another knock before the door was opened.
"Losal, how are you this near afternoon." Ashaklar asked after Losal Khrelan anwered the door. A little over a month ago, her third oldest grandchild had done the honors of injuring this man and then having him sent home for a break to heal from his injuries; she was glad to see that he was back to work and that he looked to be holding himself well.
"Doing well," Losal, a green-skinned Goblin who had green eyes, a few warts on his face, and a thin, but long, nose, replied. The hair that was on his head was brown in color and was scraggly in appearance—even though it was combed to the side, it looked a little unkept. The tuxedo that his five foot tall body was wearing was plum; the shoes that were on his feet matched it perfectly. After opening the door, then acknowledging the ones who were on its other side, he let them into the house. "My employer, and his family, have been expecting you."
"How's my son?" Ashaklar asked.
"Very well—far as I'm able to tell, he's had a very pleasant day today." Losal replied.
"How're the boys?" Ashaklar asked.
He wasn't able to answer that question; due to his employer being in the area, and due to his having heard that there were visitors in the house, he had come down to relinquish him of the chore of taking them to their appointed rooms.
The last two mornings, for him, had been rather hectic; with his mistake in mailing out twenty invitations, that weren't suppose to go out yet, he had taken it upon himself to remain near the front door to let the visitors in. His co-workers had checked into the rooms on the second, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh levels—to see if they were ready and appropriate for the ones that were to inhabit them—and they had also checked into the pantries to see if everything was in order for the guests that were to be received in the coming days. The normal chores in the house had also been done but, for the most part, it had just been their checking to see if everything was ready for the mass amount of people that were to reside in the house for the next few weeks to months.
Master Tazir, regardless of his plan of who was to come over first being scrapped for a different one, had been a little on the happy side after waking this morning and on the two mornings that preceded this morning—Mistress Angel, they figured, had done a few things that had made the present situation not seem so hurried or disappointing. A normal breakfast, lunch, and dinner had been served yesterday and the day before yesterday and normal activities had happened between them meals—Miss. Eshal was still unsettle around her brothers but she seemed to now be fine with being around her mother and she also seemed to be looking forward the the twenty guests' arrival. Young Master Hazaar and Lazeer had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed that morning; they had been cranky for about half of that morning before mellowing down.
Mistress Angel, quite surprisingly, was taking the present situation of his sending out twenty invitations very well; she hadn't gotten on him about his sending them invites in the mail, she hadn't gotten on her husband for his not calling everyone who had been sent an invite and then telling them to not come over just yet, and she looked to be looking forward to seeing everyone who was to be coming over in the next few days. The Young Masters had been told about what was going on and, as far as he was able to tell, they were a little nervous but weren't sweating what was to happen in the imminent future.
"The process of re-integrating them with the whole family starts now—hope that everything goes well, and that everyone behaves themselves, and that no one runs off after the house is full of all who are to come over for a stay." he thought after noticing that his employer was half-descended from the foyer's left-side stairwell.
His employer gestured for him to relinquish his post in leading the guests up the stairs; he did as he was told to do silently. After being relinquished of his "charges", he returned to his former post of working close to where the residence's front door was.
"Mother," TazirVile said after his guests had reached the portion of the stairs that he was on. "Stepper, how's everyone this near afternoon?"
"Doing very well." Cheshire replied. His family nodded their heads in agreement with him.
"Pardon me for being hurried," TazirVile said as he turned then started leading everyone up the stairs. "I'll probably be in a hurry all day today."
"Something going on that we should know of?" Efagti asked. "Or be concerned about?"
"No, nothing to become worried about is going on in the house. I've got several mares, that are showing the signs of their reaching the end of their pregnancies, and I have bat-count to do." TazirVile replied.
"I'm sure that the mares will be fine," Ashaklar said. "How were the boys this morning?"
"Doing as well as they should—Hazaar and Lazeer were a bit mouthy earlier." TazirVile replied. "Combination of things going on with them—the Temperamental phase, their being like me in being grumpy after waking, and, I presume, their not getting in an all-nighter."
"Are they still clinging to their mother?" Ashaklar asked.
"Hazaar and Lazeer are," TazirVile replied. "Bile and Lhaklar aren't."
"That's good to know—maybe the younger boys will take after their older brothers and be more open." Cheshire speculated.
"Hopefully they will," TazirVile said. He had since left the foyer's dual stairwells; he was now leading his mother, and her family, and his sister down the second level's hallway. He said nothing more until after reaching the stairwell that wound up to the house's third level; progress down the second level's hallway was quiet and pleasant and he was able to think all while leading everyone to the second set of stairs that they'd have to ascend that morning. After reaching the stairwell that led up to the third level, he stopped, then turned around, then said, "Level four; rooms two through ten are yours. I'd love to take you up to that level but I do need to check on them mares now."
With his knowledge on horses, and on how they gave birth, he knew that some mares did need more care and assistance than others when it came time for them to give birth. A perfectly sweet-tempered mare can turn mean and nasty after her baby's born; a mare who just gave birth can turn on her newborn for, sometimes, unknown reasons; and a mare, whether a maiden or one that's given birth before, can up and abandon their baby after it's been born. Sometimes, the foals were in breech position and couldn't be passed through, or the foal was dead and the mare wasn't pushing because she knew her baby was dead; a mare needed to be put in a padded stall, and then have her tail wrapped, a few days before the expected due-date arrived and then she was to be watched until that baby was seen as emerging from her.
Most of the time, a week to a few days before his mares' due dates arrived, he'd take to using a cot, that'd be placed in the stall beside their own, to sleep in—he'd wait, he'd help when needed, and he'd also go in to apply the iodine to the naval stub about two to three hours after the baby was standing and had taken in its first meal of colostrum.
His stepson, he knew, did most of the same things that he did when a mare on his property was nearing her due date; while he didn't know how many mares Tazir was expecting to foal he knew that them mares, and their unborn foals, were in good hands.
While he knew of his stepson's interest in bats, he knew nothing on their care or about how one went by looking after them—he put no thoughts in on the "Bat Count" that Tazir had said he had plans in doing that day.
After being released of his stepson's company, he took over in leading his family to the house's third level. Each of his family thought their own, separate thoughts until just after reaching the level that they were headed towards—after reaching the third level, they put the breaks on then stared at what was going on before them.
Standing about mid-way down the hall was Lhaklar and Hazaar; both looked irritated but, by all initial opinions, it looked like Hazaar was the most irritated of the two.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Lhaklar said. "No magazine of yours is in my possession."
"Come on! I asked Lazeer and he says that he doesn't have it, and I asked Bile and he says that he doesn't have it, so that means that you—"
"Have you checked your room for it?" Lhaklar asked. "Turned it upside down? Checked under its skirt and all?"
"Yes and it's not in there."
"Have you asked the old man if he took it?" Lhaklar asked. Ashaklar was fast in gasping—here it was, the first time in weeks since she had seen these two grandchildren of hers, and she was hearing one of them use a rather disrespectful term in regards to his father. Though shocked, she didn't speak or chide Lhaklar for his using "old man" in reference to his father.
"Hell no, how could he when he's either been on the first or second levels since—"
"Then why do you think I have it? Lhaklar asked.
"Why would dad want a magazine on outdoor living?" Hazaar asked. When Lhaklar tried to walk by him, he found himself as being grabbed and then thrown against the wall.
"F... I don't have your damn magazine, Hazaar!" Lhaklar snapped. "Either it's in your bedroom somewhere or Bile or Lazeer have it or dad, or one of the Goblins, took it."
"There's going to be hell for one to pay if I don't get it back!" Hazaar exclaimed.
He saw the people on the hallway's other end; their presence, alone, was what caused him to up the anti on trying to keep his cool—while Hazaar didn't seem to care about how he looked to others he thought that the first-time impression was the most important impression that one was able to get. Despite his attempts, he was having a time in keeping himself together—Hazaar was being a real pain in the ass today; so far, he had grumbled and whined, and had been gotten on by one or both of their parental units during breakfast, and then again about thirty minutes to an hour after breakfast was consumed, and he had also gotten into two fights with either Lazeer or Bile. Dad had done more than enough throat clearings during breakfast, and their mother had done more than say Hazaar's name during breakfast; Hazaar had come very near to being either grounded or sent to his room before finishing his morning meal.
Lazeer had been rather rude in leaving the table before being "dismissed" by the old man; dad had not looked pleased over Lazeer's up and leaving the table and that went double for Eshal, who had looked downright disgusted by Lazeer's rude action. He, Bile, and Hazaar had left after being dismissed; he and Bile had done some time in the gym before coming upstairs, he didn't know what Lazeer had done after finishing breakfast. Bile, who had gone up before him, had been found as listening to his music; after seeing what his brother was doing, he had gone into his room for his music ring—which was nothing more than a silver bracelet that played the tunes that were downloaded on it. After collecting his ring, then putting it around his wrist, he had left his room; he had been intending to return to the gym—Hazaar, who was ranting and raving over his missing magazine, had grabbed and then prevented him from doing this.
He had a strong feeling that it was either Bile or Lazeer that had the magazine; he didn't have it, and Hazaar obviously didn't have it, so it was either them two that did—or, unless the old man or a Goblin had gotten a good case of sticky fingers while being in Hazaar's room, that was. Since he had spoken his mind on the subject of the missing magazine, and since he didn't want any further transgressions to happen between he and his overly cranky brother, he shook his shoulders then made to walk down the hall. Hazaar was fast in pushing him back against the wall, and he was also fast in barring him from moving away from the wall when he made the move to do so—this move of his brother's caused him to be both pissed off and a bit embarrassed; the people at the end of the hall could see what was going on and they could probably also hear all of what was said between he and Hazaar too.
After feeling them two feelings, he tried again in going down the hall; Hazaar, instead of pushing him back against the wall, allowed him to go past by maybe two or three steps before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. Having his shirt pulled back, then having himself as being thrown back to the wall, caused him to lose it—he turned then he shoved his brother hard enough to fly back to the wall opposite the one that he had been thrown against.
"I don't have your fucking magazine!" Lhaklar exclaimed. "Lazeer came up here before you did, he probably has it!"
"I asked him numbnuts!" Hazaar rebounded from the wall then came at him; he was shoved twice before noticing the fist coming at him. He ducked just in time to avoid being punched. "He said that he didn't have it so that leaves you and B—"
"For crying out loud!" they jerked their heads in Bile's room's direction; Bile left his room in a hurry then practically threw a magazine, that had a mid-green spine on it, and a photograph of a group of humans rigging up a campsite on its front cover, at Hazaar. "Take your damn magazine! You let me borrow it from you late last night."
"I did?" Hazaar asked while bending down to retrieve his magazine. "I don't remember doing that."
"I do." Bile said.
"Well, I don't." Hazaar said. He shoved past Lhaklar then he went straight to his room; the door to his room was slammed hard enough for everyone to hear right after he went in.
"Someone better give him a chill pill." Bile said while shaking his head.
"Or one of them—" Lhaklar's chest heaved in before he started yelling in the direction of his brother's room. "—straight jackets and a gag!"
"Go to hell!" Hazaar's yell was so loud that everyone on the house's second and third levels could hear it.
"Maybe you should also get and then take a chill pill." Bile said before turning and then going back to his room.
While they were a little shocked over what they had just witnessed they weren't passing judgement on the two boys; Efagti and Amadh had had similar episodes between themselves, and that went double for Phaggo having it out with one or the both of them as well. When his two, older sons had been Tazir's kids' age, he had found himself as either hearing their constant fighting or having to separate them after their fighting went from plain verbal to verbal and physical. He and Ashaklar had done the quick trick of placing their hands to either side of Defe and Qhuakiz's heads after the two boys started cursing—there need not be any young children of theirs hearing and then taking to their own in using the words that someone older than they said.
Lhaklar was now coming towards them; with his grandson looking to be calm, he resumed the trek down the hall. He had his family follow him in a straight line—that way, Lhaklar would have a little easier passage in going down the hallway and that way no traffic jams occurred; he was also thinking around the area of not wanting his grandson to become freaked out over being in an overly congested hallway with people that he didn't know.
Lhaklar, while passing him by, gave him a passing glance; he returned the gesture by looking at him before resuming the task of leading his family down the hall. When he turned his head, to see what was going on behind him, he saw that his grandson was giving everyone that he passed by a passing glance—Lhaklar was acknowledging their presence and he looked a little curious about who they were.
He looked into the open chamber, that looked to belong to Bile, for just a second while passing it by; seeing as there was a shadow moving about in the chamber, and seeing that Bile had just entered this chamber, he decided to be quiet while going towards the stairwell that'd take him and his to the house's fourth level. He had only just passed the chamber when his adoptive grandson's head poked out from it—the youngster gave his backside a look, then he gave his passing family a look, before ducking back into the chamber that he had been given.