Mr. Googly is Pleased to Make Your Acquaintance
After lying on the floor screaming for a long time, Straw let his voice trail off to nothing. Picking himself up, he dusted some imaginary dirt from his shirt. A terribly realistic painting of a young man holding a knife was on the wall, the evil grin on the face seeming to mock him. Taking a deep breath he turned around and stumbled back in fright, crying out at the sight of a shadow directly behind him.
“Is there a problem with the young sir?” asked Butler, the butler.
Rising to his feet once again, Straw shook his finger. “Don’t go around scaring people like that. I think that violates the butler code!”
“Very good, sir,” was the only reply. The butler stood motionless, saying nothing more.
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” snapped Straw. “I’m fine. Get out of here.”
“As you wish, sir,” came the slow, dry reply. “But I feel I must warn you...”
“Just go!” interrupted Straw, pointing the way.
The Butler nodded and walked away to do his buttling. Satisfied, Straw turned around and screamed in terror at the young man lurking behind him. He backed up a few steps and leaned against the wall, trying to get his breath back. “My heart,” he gasped, clutching his chest.
“You don’t look so well,” said the other man, a sickly looking smile on his face.
“I’m fine,” said Straw testily through gasps for air. Every time he came here he hoped he wouldn’t run into Tom, but it seemed like, without fail, Tom would show up and make him feel...uncomfortable. The man just wasn’t right.
“That’s good, that you’re good,” said Tom, still half hidden by shadow. Somehow he managed to lurk just by standing there. It was unsettling. “I would hate for anyone to be a guest in our home and to be anything less than good.” The smile stayed frozen in place even as he spoke. His hands were crossed behind his back, his heels together, a slight bow to his legs that was not noticeable beneath his pants. Straw had seen him in shorts a time or two and that was the only reason he knew. Tom was wearing a stylish suit that was a half size...wrong for his frame. It somehow managed to hang awkwardly without looking conspicuously too large or too small.
Pushing away from the wall, Straw tried to collect his dignity - even the bits that had crawled into the corner for a bit of a nap. “I’m going back to the sitting room,” he said with false bluster. “I think Thunderfunk is going to need me.”
“I’ll come along,” said Tom, his smile broadening and remaining frozen at the same time. As he stepped forward, his left arm came up until his hand was about chin level. Covering the hand was a sock puppet. The googly eyes had crude eyebrows that were drawn downward in an angry position. Around where the mouth should be a thin red tongue hung, swaying slightly with the motion of the hand. “Shall we?” said Tom, leading the way.
As Straw walked behind Tom, he noticed the sock puppet slowly inch above Tom’s right shoulder until it was resting there, staring at him. The googly eyes bounced with every step, but somehow always seemed to remain focused on Straw. The most massive chill that Straw had ever experienced ran up and down his spine. He hated this house.
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