Post by Alexandra Foster on Oct 4, 2007 22:34:21 GMT
I am feeling very grumpy today as I munch away on my bacon, and the grubby little owl flapping insistently near my head isn’t helping to improve my mood.
“What do you want?” I mutter, glaring at it darkly. None of my friends are quite weird enough to send me letters by owl when they can just as well see me in person… well, okay, yes they are, but that’s beside the point. The stupid little owl can’t possibly be for me – especially when I notice that it’s carrying a Howler.
Nobody around to send me Howlers anymore, even if I do stuff to deserve them, I think with a lump in my throat. Not mum or dad or Damion….
“Shoo! Go deliver your scolding to someone with living parents!” I snap at the bird, waving my hand impatiently. It takes the opportunity to drop the bright red envelope in my hand, and promptly flies off.
Well, why not? Whoever it’s for will hear it anyway. I sigh and drop the letter on the table, watching it start to smoke as I take a sip of pumpkin juice.
I spit out my next mouthful as a wave of sound assaults me, marginally recognizable as my brother’s voice.
“IT’S A BOY!” the voice screams happily, magically magnified to an unhealthy volume. “ARTHUR JULES BERNARD RICHARDS, 7 POUNDS ON MONDAY THE 12TH, GOD WAS IT BLOODY AWFUL!”
His voice gives a screechy laugh that makes several students jump in terror.
“ARIEL JUST HIT ME SAYING I DON’T KNOW THE HALF, AND JIM’S OFF TWIRLING ‘ROUND THE ROOM AGAIN LIKE A BLOODY BALLERINA….”
The warmth and laughter in his voice are unmistakable… and very, very welcome.
“… AND ANGIE’S INSPECTING THE CRITTER. HOPE THAT YOU ARE WELL AND NOT OFF DOING SOMETHING STUPID. WITH LOVE FROM ALL OF US, ANDREW!”
The last bit comes out in a roar, just before the paper curls up into ash, and by the time it ends I’m crying and the day is looking up. I never thought I would enjoy a Howler so much.
“What do you want?” I mutter, glaring at it darkly. None of my friends are quite weird enough to send me letters by owl when they can just as well see me in person… well, okay, yes they are, but that’s beside the point. The stupid little owl can’t possibly be for me – especially when I notice that it’s carrying a Howler.
Nobody around to send me Howlers anymore, even if I do stuff to deserve them, I think with a lump in my throat. Not mum or dad or Damion….
“Shoo! Go deliver your scolding to someone with living parents!” I snap at the bird, waving my hand impatiently. It takes the opportunity to drop the bright red envelope in my hand, and promptly flies off.
Well, why not? Whoever it’s for will hear it anyway. I sigh and drop the letter on the table, watching it start to smoke as I take a sip of pumpkin juice.
I spit out my next mouthful as a wave of sound assaults me, marginally recognizable as my brother’s voice.
“IT’S A BOY!” the voice screams happily, magically magnified to an unhealthy volume. “ARTHUR JULES BERNARD RICHARDS, 7 POUNDS ON MONDAY THE 12TH, GOD WAS IT BLOODY AWFUL!”
His voice gives a screechy laugh that makes several students jump in terror.
“ARIEL JUST HIT ME SAYING I DON’T KNOW THE HALF, AND JIM’S OFF TWIRLING ‘ROUND THE ROOM AGAIN LIKE A BLOODY BALLERINA….”
The warmth and laughter in his voice are unmistakable… and very, very welcome.
“… AND ANGIE’S INSPECTING THE CRITTER. HOPE THAT YOU ARE WELL AND NOT OFF DOING SOMETHING STUPID. WITH LOVE FROM ALL OF US, ANDREW!”
The last bit comes out in a roar, just before the paper curls up into ash, and by the time it ends I’m crying and the day is looking up. I never thought I would enjoy a Howler so much.
