Thursday, January 01, 2009
A Certain Ferocity
“There is a certain ferocity of spirit that belies the thin veneer of civilization we habitually plaster onto ourselves,” said the young lord with the white hair, steepling his fingers at the helpless man duct-taped to the kitchen chair. “But that’s nothing compared to the ferocity of spirits.” He chuckled. “Just my little joke, old chap. Laverstone Manor is almost six hundred years old and has seen its fair share of murderous plots and dastardly deeds. Can you imagine what would happen if those spirits knew you were going to steal their... er…” He hesitated. “Jasfoup? What’s the opposite of ‘heritage’?”
“I don’t think there is one, Harold,” said the man in the tall suit.
“Well then. There you are.” The man called Harold stared at Ted Flynn as if he was expected to contribute.
Ted cleared his throat. “Bravo?”