Things Unfurled
Finally able to usher his guest out the door, Thunderfunk watched Mrs. Henderson walk down the lane until she disappeared out of sight. He then rushed to his bank of monitors so he could be sure that she actually left the premises without waiting around to ambush him again. Satisfied that she was well on her way to her own dwelling, he sank into a tall leather chair, sighing with relief. “Straw!” he shouted.
“What!” shouted his protege from six inches behind his chair, nearly causing Thunder to chunder all over the expensive Persian rug that hung on the opposite wall.
Turning to the young man who was whistling innocently, Thunder wiped his mouth. “First, you will bring me a sherry. Second, clean up this mess!” He stormed away to his lair to brood. Or possibly to plan. Or perhaps he would do both - he was in that type of mood today. He just wished the lair had a door he could slam.
Straw laughed to himself as he walked to the liquor cabinet to get the bottle of Manzanilla that had been purchased the day before. Pouring two glasses, he sipped from one as he carried the other down to where Thunder sat in his brooding chair, his long, feathered finger tapping regularly on the arm of the chair. Handing the full glass to Thunder, Straw turned to leave, expecting to repeat this process a few times throughout the rest of the evening. Instead, he stopped when Thunder began to speak.
“I have our next plan in place.” His voice was low and full of menace.
Turning back, Straw raised an eyebrow. “Really?” he asked.
“Of course. What did you think, that I would not have a plan in place?”
Straw shrugged. “It’s just that you’re not in your planning chair.”
“Pfft. Planning chair. Need I remind you that I am Thunderfunk, the Superchicken? I need no chair to plan!” He rose to his feet as he spoke, waving his arms and pacing magnanimously. I’m not sure how one does that, but apparently it is possible. “I am the one who has defeated superheroes around the world, rendering them powerless and helpless yet keeping them alive to complete their humiliation! I have fought battles against foes that thought they were my superiors only to find themselves vastly overmatched by my intellect and cunning! I have struck terror into the hearts of governments and business leaders throughout the world! Even those men who dare to call themselves evil quake in the shadow of my presence!! And you dare to presume that I need a special seating arrangement in order to formulate my dastardly plans. Rather be grateful that I do not choose to destroy you on a whim!” Finished his rant, he seated himself heavily once again.
Smiling inwardly, Straw noted that the giant fowl had sat down in a different chair - the chair in which he sat to make plans. Sometimes minor obsessive compulsiveness could be fun to watch. “My mistake,” he said mildly in a tone he had perfected for mollifying his boss. Once again, it worked.
“Don’t let it happen again,” threatened Thunder, the closest he ever came to apologising. “Now, let me explain my plan.”
Straw listened intently to the detailed steps that were laid out by his employer, where listening intently is understood to mean “listened enough to know where to nod and say things such as ‘uh-uh’, or ‘yeah’, or to chuckle politely if need be”. Meanwhile, he was busy texting the guard at the front of the building, telling him to get the mess in the sitting room cleaned up before it hardened into modern art. Disgusting, disgusting modern art. Also, Mrs. Henderson was not allowed on the grounds for the rest of the night.
Suddenly, the meat of what Thunder was explaining managed to worm its way into Straw’s consciousness, nearly causing him to drop his phone. “Wait, what?” he exclaimed, interrupting Thunder mid-rant. To shocked to speak, the giant chicken instead stared at the young man. “Can you explain the plan again,” requested Straw, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. “I think I need to hear this.”
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