Little Jimmy Fisher did not like the old
house at the end of the street.|
Little Jimmy Fisher did not like the fact that the house was out of his way. He wished it was on his way to school so he would not have to leave home early.
Little Jimmy Fisher did not like the old man that lived in the big old house at the end of the block.
Little Jimmy Fisher put on his mitts, scarf, and galoshes and trudged, the long way, to school.
Little Jimmy Fisher did not like the snow on the ground. He wished that it was summer so he could find rocks instead of snow, because he would like to break every window in that ugly old castle.
Little Jimmy Fisher gathered some snow, and also, unnoticed, a small stone, and rolled it into a ball.
Little Jimmy Fisher, as he threw the snowball at the window, yelled, "I hate you, you old fart. I know you killed my dog. I know you killed my friend Robbie's too."
Little Jimmy Fisher froze as the glass in the window, painted with thick black paint, shattered into millions of tiny shiny fragments and fell, some inside, and some outside, of the house.
A scream of absolute terror and pain filled the heavens.
Little Jimmy Fisher ran for school, "I'm sorry Monsieur Wishenski. I didn't mean it. Honest," In his terror, for the first time ever, getting the pronunciation correct.
Alice lay rigid with fear. Beneath her she felt the smooth velvet of the couch. Above her she felt the cold smoothness of Monsieur Allen's hairless skin.
Through the panic in her brain she sensed, rather than heard, the breaking of glass, the tinkle of falling glass. The earth shattering scream of Monsieur Allen, as the sunlight struck his body, cleared her mind.
Allen literally flew from on top of her, writhing and screaming, actually smoking, as he twisted in the sunlight.
Without hesitation, Alice leapt from the couch and ran out of the room, scooping up little Jo as she sped down the hallway. Flinging open the door she ran outside.
As soon as they left the darkness of the hallway Jo began to scream and writhe like the creature inside. Alice too felt the heat of the sun but managed to stagger through the snow. Dropping the smoking Jo she continued out to the street.
Barefoot she staggered after Jimmy calling for help.
Little Jimmy Fisher turned for one fearful moment, saw an apparition chasing him, and ran for his life. Once past the woods and into an area of houses he looked, as his mother had taught him, for a yellow sign in a window. Banging and screaming he was admitted into the house of a block parent who quickly dialled 911.
Roger leaned his broom against the wall and spoke to his fellow sanitary engineer, "Did you see the one that came in this morning?"
"The one in the special room?"
"Yeah. Absolutely gorgeous."
"How do you know?"
"They called me in early. Jasper got the wheezes again and went home sick."
"So you checked her out already?"
"Just quickly. Too many doctors around."
"What's wrong with her?"
"Sun burn and hypothermia."
"Never heard of such a thing."
"That's what it says on her chart."
"So why is she strapped to the bed?"
"Out of her pretty little gourd."
"What's she on?"
"Nothing, as far as I know, she's just wacko. Screaming for somebody named Jo."
"What's she like?"
"Cold and beautiful."
"So when are we going to check her out?"
"Why not. We've never done one together before."
"Hmmm. Could be interesting."
"When security take their break."
"See you then."
Roger picked up his broom and continued on his way. Gerald, pushing his mop bucket, limped down the hall in the opposite direction.
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