Categories > Original > Fantasy > Let's See Where This One Goes, Eh?
The doorbell buzzed. Again. Three times now. Then four.
"Would somebody be so kind as to get the bloody door!" shouted a voice. A loud thumping came from upstairs as one of the boys stomped their foot. A fifth buzz followed
"Quit banging around up there, and do it yourselves, you hairless chimpanzees!" screamed Gwen, who was sitting on her bunk. Buzz six and seven rang out. The person at the door began to knock, assuming the bell broken.
"I'll bloody do it." I groaned as dust rained from the ceiling, courtesy of the boys. I stood and marched out as Grace bellowed
"Ing is getting it, so cannit, you deftbutts!" With a sigh, I used the banister to slide down three flights of stairs. The pounding on the door had not subdued. Tweedle was sitting with his back against the door.
"At last," the small boy muttered darkly. "I was about to answer it myself."
"No, you weren't," I said with a glare, as I kicked him aside with my foot.
"Remind me once more, why can I not open the door anymore." I rolled my eyes while I unlatched the seven door locks.
"Because we don't want another Mrs. Wippol, do we?" Tweedle only shrugged. I pulled open the door and looked out. Nobody was there.
"Hello?" Called Tweedle, sticking his head out from under my arm. I nudged him away.
"Who's there?" I asked. No answer. "Is this some kind of bloody prank?" Nothing.
"Oh, Ingrid, look! A box!" The little boy reached out to grab it.
"No, Charles!" I commanded, pushing his hand away. Tweedle always acted so grown up, I sometimes forget that he didn't really have that much common sense. I slowly picked up the box, and gingerly examined it. "Tweedle, go get Douglas. I want to talk to him in the attic, okay? " He nodded and hurried off.
*
Up in the attic, I place the package on the old pingpong table. Douglas and Charles both came in.
“Tweedle, get out.” He frowned.
“Just, go keep watch or something for us, okay?” suggested Douglas. Tweedle beamed at the older boy and practically skipped into the hallway.
“You’re good with him,” I observed. Doug shrugged.
“So, whassup?” I pointed at the package.
“This came today. Nobody was outside, and there wasn't a note.” Douglas began to examine the busted box.
“Could Cornelia have ordered it?” He asked.
I snorted. “As if she would leave the basement for long enough to order something without a mailman?”
"Would somebody be so kind as to get the bloody door!" shouted a voice. A loud thumping came from upstairs as one of the boys stomped their foot. A fifth buzz followed
"Quit banging around up there, and do it yourselves, you hairless chimpanzees!" screamed Gwen, who was sitting on her bunk. Buzz six and seven rang out. The person at the door began to knock, assuming the bell broken.
"I'll bloody do it." I groaned as dust rained from the ceiling, courtesy of the boys. I stood and marched out as Grace bellowed
"Ing is getting it, so cannit, you deftbutts!" With a sigh, I used the banister to slide down three flights of stairs. The pounding on the door had not subdued. Tweedle was sitting with his back against the door.
"At last," the small boy muttered darkly. "I was about to answer it myself."
"No, you weren't," I said with a glare, as I kicked him aside with my foot.
"Remind me once more, why can I not open the door anymore." I rolled my eyes while I unlatched the seven door locks.
"Because we don't want another Mrs. Wippol, do we?" Tweedle only shrugged. I pulled open the door and looked out. Nobody was there.
"Hello?" Called Tweedle, sticking his head out from under my arm. I nudged him away.
"Who's there?" I asked. No answer. "Is this some kind of bloody prank?" Nothing.
"Oh, Ingrid, look! A box!" The little boy reached out to grab it.
"No, Charles!" I commanded, pushing his hand away. Tweedle always acted so grown up, I sometimes forget that he didn't really have that much common sense. I slowly picked up the box, and gingerly examined it. "Tweedle, go get Douglas. I want to talk to him in the attic, okay? " He nodded and hurried off.
*
Up in the attic, I place the package on the old pingpong table. Douglas and Charles both came in.
“Tweedle, get out.” He frowned.
“Just, go keep watch or something for us, okay?” suggested Douglas. Tweedle beamed at the older boy and practically skipped into the hallway.
“You’re good with him,” I observed. Doug shrugged.
“So, whassup?” I pointed at the package.
“This came today. Nobody was outside, and there wasn't a note.” Douglas began to examine the busted box.
“Could Cornelia have ordered it?” He asked.
I snorted. “As if she would leave the basement for long enough to order something without a mailman?”
Sign up to rate and review this story