The Fabulous Four, or A Western in One Part
The tumbleweed is blowing across the living room floor. In the heat of the house, no sounds can be heard.
Harvey faces Charlie, eyes glinting. Charlie stares back. His eyes are hard.
Honour is at stake. Neither blink. Neither moves. The leadership of a whole clan is to be decided now. Both chew their matchsticks in a meditative manner.
Frankie has sought safety in the kitchen sink. He pokes his head up to see what is happening, but then dives for cover as Harvey says:
"Show us what you've got then, New Boy"
Charlie's nose twitches. He spits out his matchstick. Frankie's ears poke back up, straining to hear the reply.
"Go for your guns, Stripy Tail!". Charlie makes a leap towards Harvey, who jumps six feet into the air and lands in exactly the same spot, spitting and hissing at Charlie. Charlie stays low, and skulks backwards to his original position.
Stalemate.
More tumbleweed (where is this coming from?) blows in across the floor as silence reigns once more.
Both go back to eyeballing ferociously. This may be a long evening.
posted by DMouse007 @ 2/15/2004 08:23:00 PM
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