Quote:
6. Mr. Owl
4. and lost their temper, flipping three chairs


"It was," Nathaniel protested, "a question."

He managed to sidle sideways away from the next chair - this one a handsome, leather-backed armchair with clawed, etched feet - as it soared across the room towards him in a surprisingly graceful arc. He ducked, feeling the whoosh of displaced air above his head, and twisted around just in time to see it collide into the wall behind him with a spectacular crash.

Nathaniel was a little impressed, in spite of himself.

"Look," he said, in what he hoped was a placating tone of voice, "I've never met a talk - I mean, I've never met an owl like you before, I just wanted to know what was goin' on, y'know. It's a question anyone could ask, y'know, I'm actually a little bit surprised no one's asked you before - "

There was a flurry of clicking noises, an indignant hoot, and the sound of claws skidding against hardwood floor. Nathaniel crouched even lower behind the couch he was currently using as a makeshift barricade, wondering, not for the first time, how he'd managed to once again shift into the otherworld without intending to. It had come upon him as a complete and utter surprise this time; and for once, Nathaniel had greeted it with less-than-pleasant annoyance.

He had homework to do, damn it.

But, as always, the curiosity had soon overtaken the mild indignation, and he'd spent the next few minutes exploring, wondering what he'd stumble over next. There was just so much to see and do, even if it was essentially a photo negative of the real Ashdown. A part of Nathaniel wondered whether there were also photo negatives of the people here as well - but then dismissed this thought rather quickly. One of himself - and of everyone else, for that matter - was quite enough to be getting along with, thank you.

Mr. Owl had been discovered approximately twenty minutes into Nathaniel's exploration, in a large room on the ground floor of what appeared to be an abandoned building. He wasn't really sure if that was the creature's real name or not, but it seemed appropriate, given the state of his...well, given his state. He was a rotund figure in a waistcoat made of some green, velvety material, head swiveling all the way around to look at Nathaniel from his perch on a low hanging branch of a tree that seemed to grow straight through the window of the room. Feathery wings rustled as he gestured, flapped, and inched closer along the branch, round yellow eyes staring beadily down at the intruder. Beneath

Namely Nathaniel.

"Pardon me," he said pleasantly, as politely as possible. "I didn't mean to interrupt or nothin'. Anythin'." Remember your manners. "Could you possibly tell me where it is that I am? I don't recognize this road; how do I get back to the main street?"

Silence had followed this. Nathaniel waited patiently, and was rewarded with a stretched out wing in the general direction of the owl's right, Nathaniel's left. He flashed up a smile and lifted his hand, giving a little salute of gratitude to the creature.

"Thank you kindly, sir," he said. "Oh - "

A question had come to him, unbidden, and yet now it nagged at him. Nathaniel, halfway to the door, stopped and turned around, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully.

"Could you please kindly tell me," he said, "How many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop?"

The first chair - splintered and battered, stuffing oozing from a split seam - had thankfully missed shattering Nathaniel's arm, flipped so thoroughly that it was almost impressive. The second - the handsome leather armchair - followed it quickly, even as Nathaniel hastily took refuge behind an overturned couch that appeared to be some lurid shade of puce.

"I'm sorry, really!" he called out, and something - a third chair, smaller and wooden with a grimy white padded seat - came flipping over his head, hitting the wall and cascading in pieces to the ground. "I won't ask again, I promise!"

Mr. Owl gave a loud, meaningful hoot. Nathaniel dared to peek over the sofa and saw him glancing around, probably to look for more ammunition, but there were no more chairs. The creature was lumbering towards a table now, except his back was turned, and Nathaniel took his chance. He pelted out from behind the couch and skidded across the leaf strewn floor until he was out the door again.

By the time he stopped running, he had a stitch in his side the size of Arkansas and his chest felt like it was on fire, but at least there were no more chairs.

"He didn't even answer my question," Nathaniel gasped hoarsely to himself, and then went to find the way home.


[ WORD COUNT: 792 ]