No ratings.
Walter and Lucius have an unusual relationship. |
Walter pulled out his baseball bat and thumped Lucius on top of the head. And Lucius, being the sensitive type, crumpled with the blow, dropping like a sack of soggy flour. In Walter’s defense, it was a very nice bat, hardwood, with a signature from Ken Griffey, Jr. Walter was sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of peach yogurt when Lucius sat up, holding his head. “Good God, my head feels terrible,” Lucius muttered to himself. “Oh, that’s too bad,” Walter responded, sounding genuinely concerned. “What’s for dinner tonight?” he continued, in the same breath. Lucius stood up, staggered at bit, but caught himself. “Uh, I was thinking, umm,… I was thinking about making mac-n-cheese,” Lucius said, his voice quivering a bit. “You like peas with that, right?” Lucius wobbled into the kitchen. The second blow came during dinner. Lucius had just placed his first bite of peas into his mouth when Walter, in one fluid motion, swung his bat out, from behind his back, with his left hand, and caught Lucius directly on the back of the head. Lucius' head unceremoniously landed in his noodles. Within a couple of minutes, he lifted his head up, delicately removed a noodle from his nose and groaned. “Something wrong?” Walter spouted, through a mouthful of peas. “I don’t think it’s anything,” Lucius groaned, “it’s just that my head has been hurting lately.” The next morning, emerging from their respective bedrooms, Lucius leaned against the wall, rubbing his left temple. “Are you still complaining about your head?” Walter sludged, sounding annoyed. Lucius’ right eye developed a twitch. |