Friday, April 10, 2009

Thunderfunk the Superchicken - Chapter 32

Surely, Indeed.

The doorbell rang, echoing through the empty halls of the massive house. Thunderfunk glanced around for a moment and then hunched over his desk again, concentrating at the task at hand. Straw would answer it he was sure.

But the doorbell sounded once more, this time sounding more insistent. Thunder looked up again, wondering where his partner was. When the bell rang a third time, he sighed heavily, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders and rose to his feet to make the long walk to the front door. By the time he reached the door, the doorbell had rang twice more. Opening the door, he stared down at his caller and greeted them with an icy “What?”

That was the intention, anyway, but before he had a chance to say anything he found a casserole dish shoved into his hands, accompanied with a warning of “be careful dear, it’s hot.” As he was quickly finding somewhere to put the scalding dish down, Mrs Henderson was entering his house, chattering away, heading towards his sitting room. Straw showed up just then and Thunder shoved the food into his helpers hands before trailing his elderly neighbour down the hall. “I know you are a busy man,” she was saying, “so I cooked you a meal to ensure you are eating properly at least some of the time.”

“Mrs. Henderson,” said Thunder, exasperated by the woman, “I can assure you that my nutritional needs are well met by my current eating habits, and that I do not need your assistance...” his voice trailed off. Though he had been only steps behind her, somehow she had lt a fire and settled in to do some knitting before he entered the room.

“What was that dearie?” she asked. “You’ll have to speak up. My hearing isn’t what it once was you know.” She smiled warmly and continued her knitting, making what appeared to be a scarf.

Rubbing the bridge of his beak, Thunder took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Mrs. Henderson...” he began, only to be cut off by her shocked gasp.

“Why Thunder,” she exclaimed, “whatever happened to your head. You’ve been hurt!”

Confused, Thunder reached up and felt his head, only remembering when he felt the bandages of the latest attack on his person. “That,” he said tersely, “was your cat.”

“Mr Pentiction? Oh I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “He is a very calm cat. He doesn’t go around attacking people. Do you Mr Pentiction?” Her cat crawled out of her massive bag and jumped up onto her lap, stretching and purring as she petted him, scratching behind his ears. He gave Thunder a look of pure malice for a moment before settling down for a nap on his owners lap. His tail continued to twitch, mocking Thunder’s discomfort.

“That cat is a psycho,” muttered Thunder.

“Food’s on,” announced Straw as he entered the room carrying three plates heaped with the steaming casserole that Mrs. Henderson had provided.

“Oh no thanks,” she said with a smile. “I ate earlier and am not hungry. But you go ahead.” She continued her knitting.

“Okay,” replied the young man. “Thunder?” He offered a plate to his boss who merely grimaced and pushed it away. Shrugging, Straw settled down and began eating enthusiastically.

“And how are you doing, young man?” asked Mrs. Henderson, smiling affectionately at Straw.

“I’m doing fine,” he replied. “And I have to say, this is fantastic. I love it!” He shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

“Thank you dear. I’m glad you like it.” She put down her knitting and pet Mr Pentiction some more. “You know, my niece knows how to make this meal as well. In fact she is quite a master chef in her own right. You should meet her some day.”

“Mrs. Henderson,” interjected Thunderfunk. “I’m afraid we must cut this short as Straw and I are very busy.”

“Oh stuff it, Thunder.” Straw glared briefly at his boss. “I want to hear this.” He turned back to face their neighbour. “So, she can cook, can she?”

Looking back and forth at the two others sitting in his house, Thunder slowly sank into an easy chair, wondering where he had gone wrong in his life to deserve this. “Oh right, the evil,” he muttered under his breath. Placing a look of indifference on his face, he settled back to await the eventual end of this inane conversation. Surely it could not last long.

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