The doors creaked open with the shudder of long-rusted hinges.
"Is the Count not here?" asked Harker.
"Oh, no, sir," said the bedraggled servitor. His skin was red and welted, and his shoelaces undone and partially shredded. "The Master never rises before dark. He will meet you in the dining chamber."
"Any chance of a good glass of wine?"
"The Master does not drink... wine." The servant blinked. "We have milk, and water. Dinner will be tuna tartare, and..." He paused, rolling his red-rimmed eyes before sneezing powerfully. "The Master prefers to be scritched behind the ears, but no belly-rubs."
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4 comments:
Christ I'm slow. I never saw this was a cat till the punch line. I have a cockatiel who enjoys a good scritch. And every morning I build a new version of what we refer to as his 'castle' atop his cage, a construction of cardboard boxes, ladders and mirrors - keeps him entertained all day. At the moment he's peeking over his balustrade and surveying his kingdom. It's a very fine castle.
You don't get nearly enough comments on here. I love your style, and I haven't seen anyone do something quite like this. (100-word stories are nothing new, but so prolifically and imaginatively? That's impressive.)
@Jim - Does he sing?
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@Olle - I discovered shortly after beginning that Brendan Adkins has been doing it much longer than I. Bit of a different style, but otherwise many similarities. I still read his site from time to time. I'm happy to take what comments I get, though.
Actually Birdy is more of a jazz musician than a rock god. His trick is doing an improvisation based on the good ol’ wolf whistle: weet woo, weet woo, weet woo, widdle de wee woop, do woop, do woop, woop woop. There are times it’s obvious he’s mimicking me but he’s too small to make a decent job out of the words. You’ll notice it’s always the big birds that do the really clever stuff like forming words.
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