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Prerogative 37
To engage in fruitless uses of intellect.
Created on 2004-03-23 10:01:35 (#2600168), last updated 2009-11-25
298 comments received, 312 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
120 Journal Entries, 1 Tag, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 2 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | skonar |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 1983-11-25 |
| Location: | United Kingdom |
BioThe sun rose.
Something seemed wrong, to Von Strauff. He went through his checklist, glancing around from his armchair. The wallpaper was there. Immutably so, with its faint lime daisies. His armchair was, indeed, beneath him. He nodded, satisfied, and adjusted his monocle. The television, the window-box with its faintly waving sunflowers, the curtains.
He reached for the side-table and his hand patted its surface, searching for his pipe.
Bugger!
"Marvale? Marvale where are you old chap! I've lost my pipe!" Von Strauff shouted into the kitchen. The echoes of his cries dully ebbed away through the plaster of the walls. "Marvale?..."
Damnation!
Von Strauff struggled to his feet, gasping for breath. Leaving the armchair was much akin to trying to disentangle oneself from glue, such was the body's desire for comfort. It was a pity. He staggered past the window-box and into the kitchen. A moment passed before his head reappeared through the kitchen door. He stared at the window-box. "Marvale? MARVALE! Where's the window gone? MARVALE?!"
The sun burned on.
Smoke began to curl past Von Strauff's head, and he panicedly ducked back into the kitchen. Tearing down the oven gloves from their place on the wall, beside the umbrella. Clearly Marvale, that fool, had forgotten something in the oven. Again. And probably taken Von Strauff's pipe, while he was at it. Good help was so hard to find these days.
Von Strauff struggled across the kitchen, dodging errant chairs and scattered dishtowels before reaching the oven. He peered inside unsteadily, past the seeping smoke edging around the oven door. One eyebrow rose slowly, and he reached cautiously for the handle. He quickly pulled his hand away, his fingertips already beginning to blister.
"This is really, really, not spot on..." Von Strauff mumbled, pulling the ovengloves over his hands. He gingerly pulled down the oven door, and was engulfed in billowing smoke. "Bugger, Bugger, Bugger!"
He managed to manhandle the cooking tray out of the oven, and shoved it onto the counter. The heat exuding from it was staggering, the light hurt Von Strauff's eyes. He reacted quickly, pulling the chopping board closer, and putting it down over the top of the cooking tray. The heat subsided. Von Strauff wiped the sweat from his brow.
The sun dissappeared.
Von Strauff paused. His eyelid twitched.
The chopping board began to turn black, and smoke seeped out from beneath it. Von Strauff cautiously lifted the edge. The full blinding light of the sun, quietly baking on a greased cooking tray, struck him in the eye. "MAAARVAAALE!"
Something seemed wrong, to Von Strauff. He went through his checklist, glancing around from his armchair. The wallpaper was there. Immutably so, with its faint lime daisies. His armchair was, indeed, beneath him. He nodded, satisfied, and adjusted his monocle. The television, the window-box with its faintly waving sunflowers, the curtains.
He reached for the side-table and his hand patted its surface, searching for his pipe.
Bugger!
"Marvale? Marvale where are you old chap! I've lost my pipe!" Von Strauff shouted into the kitchen. The echoes of his cries dully ebbed away through the plaster of the walls. "Marvale?..."
Damnation!
Von Strauff struggled to his feet, gasping for breath. Leaving the armchair was much akin to trying to disentangle oneself from glue, such was the body's desire for comfort. It was a pity. He staggered past the window-box and into the kitchen. A moment passed before his head reappeared through the kitchen door. He stared at the window-box. "Marvale? MARVALE! Where's the window gone? MARVALE?!"
The sun burned on.
Smoke began to curl past Von Strauff's head, and he panicedly ducked back into the kitchen. Tearing down the oven gloves from their place on the wall, beside the umbrella. Clearly Marvale, that fool, had forgotten something in the oven. Again. And probably taken Von Strauff's pipe, while he was at it. Good help was so hard to find these days.
Von Strauff struggled across the kitchen, dodging errant chairs and scattered dishtowels before reaching the oven. He peered inside unsteadily, past the seeping smoke edging around the oven door. One eyebrow rose slowly, and he reached cautiously for the handle. He quickly pulled his hand away, his fingertips already beginning to blister.
"This is really, really, not spot on..." Von Strauff mumbled, pulling the ovengloves over his hands. He gingerly pulled down the oven door, and was engulfed in billowing smoke. "Bugger, Bugger, Bugger!"
He managed to manhandle the cooking tray out of the oven, and shoved it onto the counter. The heat exuding from it was staggering, the light hurt Von Strauff's eyes. He reacted quickly, pulling the chopping board closer, and putting it down over the top of the cooking tray. The heat subsided. Von Strauff wiped the sweat from his brow.
The sun dissappeared.
Von Strauff paused. His eyelid twitched.
The chopping board began to turn black, and smoke seeped out from beneath it. Von Strauff cautiously lifted the edge. The full blinding light of the sun, quietly baking on a greased cooking tray, struck him in the eye. "MAAARVAAALE!"
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