It was a dark and smoky night, the moon glowing a deep dirty orange through the haze. Somewhere a fault in the transmission lines was causing the lights to intermittently flicker. 3am was a strange time to be awake, but sleep simply wouldn't come. Silence fell heavily over everything - not even a cricket could be heard - a cemetery couldn't be much quieter.
Then I heard it. Barely at first, then more and more urgently, a scratching at the door. Something wanted to get in.
Picking up my trusty Para Ordnance 1911, I jacked a round into the chamber. The clatter of the metal parts of the pistol shattered the silence and my nerves. Creeping to the door, I reached out, pulled open the dead bolt, and paused.
The scratching was louder, more frantic, and right on the other side of the door.
My nerves about to snap, I jerked open the door, and BAM, BAM, BAM!!
The neighbor's stupid cat launched itself into the night, and three impact craters surrounded where he used to be, showing that I'd missed completely.
But ho! What's this?! There in the corner where the USPS man must have left it, Barrister and Mann's Hallows shave soap!
You had be going...briefly.
ReplyDeleteShaving is way over rated.
ReplyDeleteI haven't done it since 1978
1978. That's about the time I stopped growing a beard.
DeleteWell I sincerely hope it isn't Pumpkin spice aroma.
ReplyDelete