In order to tantalise your tastebuds for reading the complete thing… here is Chapter 2 of my novel:
CHAPTER 2 – BRING IT ON BORIS
Reginald and Tippy looked down at the man wandering across the lawn.
“Must be a drunkard from the village.” scoffed Reginald, taking a drink from a newly poured glass of wine.
“Should we do something about him?” asked Tippy.
“Let him alone for the moment, as long as he doesn’t vomit on the patio it’ll be fine.”
Almost instantly, the man fell over and threw up across the grass; Reginald scowled. “Bloody typical.”
The two aristocrats watched in a stunned silence as the man got back up and staggered off into the woods.
“That’s it,” Reginald yelled “I’m getting a fence built as soon as possible.”
Tippy watched as Reginald stormed out of the room, he followed behind as quickly as he could.
Reginald stormed down a luxurious staircase into the main atrium of the manor house. He walked over to an old rotary phone installed in the wall and started dialling for the local masonry company.
Tippy gingerly tiptoed down the stairs, he never liked it when Reginald was in a bad mood.
The phone clicked and whirred as numbers were dialled in frantically. Reginald’s moustache twitched in mild irritation as he waited for his call to be answered.
There was no answer – just a lifeless dial-tone.
“And people wonder why they’re unemployed” grumbled Reginald under his breath.
Tippy walked up to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry Reginald! I’m sure things will be okay!”
Reginald let out an exasperated grunt.
As if from out of nowhere, Butler appeared and let out a petite cough to get the attention of his two masters, “Sirs, there is someone at the door for you.”
The three walked down a long passage towards the east foyer, lining the walls were several paintings of Reginald’s ancestors, each looking more pompous than the last. Tippy looked up at each one and waved with child-like glee, only to pull a face when his greeting was snubbed by the inanimate images.
A loud thud echoed through the foyer, followed by another and another. Butler raised an eyebrow and walked up to the door. Whoever was knocking didn’t seem to understand traditional etiquette.
Reginald tilted his head slightly, “Well then Butler, let them in. I’d rather not have to pay for a new door.”
Butler nodded and opened the solid oak door. What was behind it made Reginald let out a stunned gasp.
Boris McArthur was one of tax-collectors that Reginald had to deal with on a regular occasion. He was a short, corpulent man with stubby little fingers. Reginald had spent the last few years dodging and avoiding his visits with great success.
It had been Boris’s plan to force that idiot Reginald to sell off the land around his manor to a big theme-park owner. The profits he could skim from such a deal would be phenomenal. He’d spent the last four years trying to track down Reginald to get him to sell-up, but he always seemed to be away at the most convenient times.
Today, Boris’s plan was to surprise him by turning up uninvited. He had spent the morning driving his expensive Porsche from his office in London all the way to Smedlington. Of course Reginald always left the gates to the manor closed, so he had to walk up the driveway.
Whilst walking up the stupidly long path, Boris encountered a strange man stumbling out of the woods who appeared to be extraordinarily drunk and aggressive. It was this encounter that would leave Boris with an entirely new outlook on life, or rather the lack of it.
Reginald looked at Boris who was standing at the door. He was looking tired and ill, perhaps he would be able to outwit him once again.
“Boris! It’s so… good to see you!” said Reginald, grimacing.
Boris turned his head slowly to Reginald and let out a strange groaning noise.
Reginald continued to wince, beckoning a hand to Boris, “Come this way. Butler was just making tea for us, weren’t you Butler?”
Butler looked puzzled, seeing a small amount of blood on Boris’s collar. “Yes Sir.”
“Tea! Lovely!” sang Tippy, as he skipped down the hall to the dining room.
Boris slowly shuffled into the room, the door shutting gradually behind him on its own weight. Reginald kept pace with him and twisted his moustache slightly to try and calm himself.
Boris looked blankly at Reginald, his flabby, pallid face was emotionless. He followed Reginald down the hallway slowly, his arms flopped indolently beside his rotund stomach. A small trickle of drool dripped from his agape mouth.
Playing hardball today are we Boris? Thought Reginald.
“So I believe you are here to discuss me selling some of the land on my estate?”
No answer, merely a muffled gurgle.
“Very well – we shall discuss after tea and luncheon.”
Sean Oxspring's Omniverse 