Danger Kid

Chapter 22

She ignores me, knocking on the door. The sound is barely audible since the wood is apparently very thick, absorbing Brittany's puny blows. She than pushes a door bell to the right of the doors, and the air is reverberated by a thunderous tone, vibrating the grass around us. It's not a recording either, I look up and see that there is an actual brass bell the size of a witches cauldron hanging behind a wooden trellis.

As the last tones of the bell dissipate, the peacocks around the yard suddenly converge on us.

"Welcome, Ms. Brittany!" they shout over and over. Their screechy voices demonstrate that they are obviously the hybrid of not only peacocks, but probably parrots or mockingbirds as well.

The doors open, slowly, apparently not feeling the need to rush. A butler greets us with a bow. (He's exactly like the movies, upturned nose, dapperly dressed, and voice that expresses class and shameless snobbery.)

"Ms. Brittany. A pleasure to see you at the estate again. Have you been busy?"

"Yes, Reginald, I have, thanks for asking. I brought a friend who'd like to talk to Mr. Priest."

"Excellent." He says. He even does the squinty eye thing and has his nose upturned. I desperately want to mock him, but decide that might not be appropriate.

He shows us in, invites us to wait, closes the door, and is off for who I presume to be the master of the house, Mr. Priest.

The interior of the house is even more impressive than the outside. As the doors close, shutting out the voices of the peacocks, I observe a crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling that probably weighs a ton or two. You can look all the way to the top ceiling, the upper floors looming around us, rails defending potential inhabitants from falling down. A stair way spirals down from the top, descending to the floor. It is carpeted with a royal purple.

The floor gleams, and I notice the walls are covered with portraits. Here and there you can see pottery and vases. They're probably ancient or valuable since they all have plaques by them. I assume these are to confirm authenticity. Music plays distantly from the bowels of this goliath house. It sounds too real and natural to be just a recording.

"Seriously, Brittany, tell me what's going on."

She turns to me and puts a finger to my lips.

"Tut, tut, my darling. You have but to wait. Soon your burning questions shall be extinguished."

Ugh. She is so annoying.

A quick pitter patter of feet can be heard, coming from the stair well. The pitter patter grows into a crashing, and a man thunders down. He is dressed in complete humble contrast to the house, his garb consisting of sport shorts that are embarrassingly small, ratty tennis shoes, and a t shirt advertising his sports team of choice. He's covered in sweat, which soaks into a tight yellow head band.

The man makes it to the bottom of the stairs, face red with exertion, dripping perspiration. He breathes heavily, larger breaths occasionally shooting spittle.

"Britty! You're back! It's been nearly a month!"

Brittany runs up to him, hugging the sweaty (and as he grows closer, I realize also stinky) man.

"Daddy!" she squeals. Her voice is suddenly angelic and, even for her, unnaturally high.

Well, that was a shock. I guess it shouldn't have been. There was plenty of evidence, and anyone able to see the signs could have guessed as much.

The duo cuddles for a bit, creating a syrupy and disgusting display. It comes as a breath of fresh air when the two finally break. The man's head turns towards me.