"Ernest?"
He hated that name...even the shortened Ernie was enough to set him off.
"Ernest? Answer me, young man!"
He could feel that little vein under temple start to dance in a rhythmical, measured cadence. If she kept using that name, he wouldn't be able to control himself much longer. That name.
"Ernest? Ernest!! Where did you get it? To whom does it belong?"
There she goes again. Why won't she stop? That little vein now felt like a freeway running through the side of his head. It was beginning to hurt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt the first slow wave of a migraine. He was doing everything he could to control himself, and now it looked like he was going to pay for it.
"Ernest? Where did you get that arm?"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment