Post by .PAAK on Oct 10, 2015 14:20:21 GMT -6
Refining a Monster
Knock…
Knock…
Jacob Figgin emerged from Scarlet room, having heard the noise coming from the front door. He threw a glance over at Scarlet; she knocked out in the center of her bed. He smiled lightly as he walked out of the room and descended down the huge staircase.
As he got half down, he realized that all he had on was a pair of cargo shorts. He had half a mind to run upstairs and grab a t-shirt, but, he forewent the idea. “All my man-bits are covered,” he thought to himself. “Everything should be fine.”
After making the long trek, Figg finally made it to the door. With some force, he swung the door open. In front him stood a short Japanese man dressed in a brown short-sleeved shirt, along with matching pants.
“Delivery,” the UPS man said as he lifted up a small box.
Figg took ahold of the box. It could tell exactly what it was, but it was light in weight. He smiled at the man. “Thanks shorty-doowoop.”
The UPS gave him a wayward glance as he turned and left the house. Figg closed and secured the door before he made his way back upstairs. Upon entering the room, he discovered that Scarlet was still asleep. She had rolled onto her back, however.
As approached the bed, he leaned over gently and kissed her; this caused her to stir a bit. “What you want boo boo?” she asked groggily.
“You’ve got a package.”
“What is it?” She turned and wrapped herself in the covers.
“I’m not sure, my lady. I can tell you that it’s from a...Cam...Cameron Behringer?”
Had she been more awake, this would have startled Scarlet. However, the pleasures of sleep kept her calm, just this once. She let out a small sigh as he placed her down pillow over her head. “Open it for me,” she said in a muffled tone.
Figg ripped the top off the box and reached his right hand inside. It emerged with a small, leather-bound journal.
“Appears to be a book, love.”
“A book? Don’t that bitch know it aint story hour?” She flipped over onto her side. “Sit it on the throne, and place it closer to the UWF belt; I don’t want Storm’s crusty blood-flakes to fall on it.”
Figg shrugged. “As you wish.”
―To Be Continued
