| CHAPTER TWO |
| "REET! REET! REET! REET!" "That has GOT to be, by far, the most annoying clock to have to listen to before coffee!" His numb lips grumbled out. He clambered out of bed and into the hallway. Groping his way down the stairs, and groggily trying, and failing, to remove the sleep from his eyes; he made his way into the kitchen for his morning cup of "life", as he fondly referred to it. On his way into his kitchen, he bumped into two chairs, the table, and a countertop. A new record. Thirty minutes later, Ian was dressed and ready to go with only a few mishaps like when he tied his tie on backwards, and attempted to put his socks on top of his shoes. He miraculously made it to work early, so he could tell his partner Philip Robert Taner (P.R. Taner for short) about his late night adventures. P.R. listened attentively, now almost used to his friend's nighttime wanderings. What he was not used to was Ian's look of confusion, triumph, and then confusion again. It was way too early in the morning for Mr. Dice to show such varying emotions, or any emotions at all. Way too early�Most unusual indeed. "What is it Dice?" he asked, barely aware of the feeling that he might not want to know. |
| Ian thought for a moment, and then practically screamed, "The Key! The Key! It's the Key! Don't you see?! It must have been meant for me!" "Uh, right. Well, as soon as you're done with you're little Dr. Seuss thing, mind telling me what's going on?" Taner replied tartly. "Oh, yes of course. Without a doubt�It's just�never before have I woken up with a key in my hand." Dice of course said this with the air that that would explain everything. So he looked expectantly across their two, messy desks, at his partner across the dimly lit room. Naturally, P.R. was still a bit confused. So, he asked Dice what was so important in a tentative voice, which clearly meant he didn't want his partner to yell again. "Well, because�if you think about it�can't you�I�only one way�later!" Ian managed to garble out before grabbing his coat and hat, and making a mad dash for the door. He just had to try that key in his lock, he was so sure that it wasn't just any key he's ever used, let alone seen. He was much to close to unconsciousness last night to remember anything about it. Where had he left it? Oh yes, on the nightstand�Just a quick test, and then I will know. * * * * * |
| That quick test never came. Ian practically flew up the stairs (leaving pictures that had fallen off the wall, candles, and a potted plant strewn in his wake in the process) only to discover that the key was gone. He numbly walked back down the stairs, avoiding the dirt, but caught the glass. Even the crunch and crackle of more breaking glass could not bring him out of his stupor. "Key�nightstand�there�now not�I didn't�someone else? ...but who?" he muttered. He lived alone. He had no girlfriend, no maid, and no friendly neighbor that might tidy up. It had to have been taken! He was in the midst of scolding his paranoid brain for coming up with such an asinine theory when he noticed the jumble of broken plates at his feet. 'NO!' His mind screamed! 'Surely not! Have I just been hit by the Ghost Cat?!' And indeed, he had. |
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