More damn squirrels……

Van Occupanther’s generous frame flowed over the constraints of his recliner. A thin sheet of dust covered the bed to his far left, and though it was only a few paces from his current position of questionable comfort, the effort to reach it would kill him. His extremities seemed almost comical, afloat in an ocean of excess, but a quick glimpse of his dark eyes would freeze any hint of mirth like a dead bird in winter, eyes coloured with malice and trenchancy. Twistletwix sat on a small stool, gently manicuring the nails on Occupanther’s right paw. His expression was precisely that of someone glad to be engaged in a task that appears mundane, yet pales in comparison to the horror of the preceding chore. As he began combing out the knotted fur, he stole a quick glance at the empty ablution buckets next to the front door. For a second, he allowed himself the luxury of a vision that involved sharp scissors and ‘accidental’ deaths, but he’d need a chainsaw to reach any of Occupanthers’s vital organs. A chainsaw, and a pair of spit-shined steel balls.

He had neither.

“Twixie, dear…….” Occupanther’s voice oozed. Not like mud, or custard, but like puss from a festering wound. “Be a darling and fix me a drink.”

Twistletwix obediently set down scissors and comb, and opened the small cabinet that doubled as Occupanther’s footrest. He decanted a golden, pungent liquid into a tumbler, closed the cabinet door and brought the glass to Van’s lips, allowing him three deep sips before taking it to the kitchen. By the time he returned, a strange rustling emanated from the now sleeping figure of Van Occupanther. He gathered his things, turned out the light, and left. Even the trees were now quiet, all that accompanied him home was the sound of his heart beating, each thump a step closer to change.

Sometimes you didn’t need a chainsaw or balls of steel. Sometimes all you need was to leave a door unlocked, and someone else to do the job.

**************

(with apologies to Midlake)

~ by tenmiles on December 8, 2006.