Helicoptors are loud. Getting louder. Helicoptors landing on my roof are even louder. The roof of my building can't hold rain-water, how is it going to support a helicopter? I'm certain it's going to fall into my bedroom and crush me.
Perhaps I should step outside and see what's going on.
Black sedans up and down the block, a couple black SUV's block each end of the street. There's an awful lot of secret service types standing around, talking to their wrists. One of them sees me and approaches. I notice he's got a large buzzard perched on his head, but I decide against mentioning it. It probably means he's in charge or something.
He says something, but I'm busy making eye contact with the bird. For a carrion-eater, it's got remarkably intelligent eyes. Vast pools of evil, but intelligent. Not a hint of laughter in those eyes.
It's a ruse. While I'm distracted, Secret Agent Man is getting out the cuffs. Next I know I'm being marched toward the nearest SUV.Something hot and sharp hits me from behind.
"Don't let that bird hurt my cats", are the last words I speak.
No comments:
Post a Comment