Consequences of Gods

Chapter 3.

His first thought, after nearly properly wetting himself in public, (which to be fair could be classed as quite a common occurrence at Stans eatery) was to get the hell out of Dodge. But where to go, where to run off to. The patrons of Stans, let alone Stan himself knew Terry. Where he worked and lived. They would grass him up without too much investigation or harassment by the local constabulary. Would he have time to get home get some clothes and go on the lamb before being pursued? He had to get home grab some clothes and get out of Cleesdale as soon as possible.

So that's where he went. Putting the key to the door, his hand was uncontrollably shaking. He clasped his other hand around whilst trying to put the key into the yale lock. Just as the key went in, the unmistakable aroma of fresh banana muffins wafted across his nasal passage. He spun and saw Ms Boulangerie was leaning against the spiked railings that ran up the side of the four steps to his and mother's house.

'What the effing hell! What the effing hell just happened?' Terry spluttered out.

'You saved my rasher there luv!' She replied with a nonchalance that Terry felt was rather understated given the fact that he had never dreamed of killing anyone for any reason let alone two perfectly toned ogres for a strange, strange woman stranger. He was taken of guard even more when she climbed the steps towards him approaching with a sway that a cobra listening to its master on the flute would have. Waiting to strike!

Terry, needed to have a minute to play through the events of the past half hour. He turned sharply away from her and attempted once again to put the key in the door. He turned half over his shoulder and jerked his head motioning Ms Boulangerie to follow him. She already knew where he stayed that was obvious.

It had taken him seven minutes to get from Stans to his house. He wasn't hanging about either. But she had stayed close by the incident where destiny had been involved.

She knew he would head straight home to grab some supplies. But how did she know he would escape those two brutes? Surely it was a mismatch from the start. Why pick him to hand the box over to? Why tell him to hold on tight? He barely could hold onto his mental state right now!

Holding it and throttling it would be preferable right now, thought Terry. Imagine a strange lady walks up and asks you to help her as she's afraid of two burly men who want to do her harm. And Terry thought perfectly reasonable proposition and yes, he will go along with that without a care at that precise moment. He regretted it after thirty two minutes.

His stomach, bowels and bladder gave up the ghost. Adrenaline had gotten him to his mother's house. The adrenaline was drained, and reality once again kicked him square in the nuts. He said to Ms Boulangerie to go into the kitchen, and he'd be right back.

Rushing to the toilet, and fumbling over his belt and zip, his trousers flew down to his ankles and he plonked himself down onto the toilet seat. He sat a minute head in hands ruminating over his now destroyed future, where watches and cuckoo clocks were of no importance any longer. Where even cream scones went out the window very much like ogre number two.

All that needed jettisoned was expelled and Terry done himself up and splashed water onto his face, attempted to look like this was a walk in the park and ambled out of the bathroom to the danger that was awaiting in the kitchen.

Before he strode into the gates of hell, he tried to take a few deep breaths before he had to ask the question.

'Right, what in Noras' name is going on? I've just managed to accidently kill two strangers and assisted you to disappear only for you to reappear at my front door and now in my mother's kitchen. So, if you would be so kind as to let me in on whatever debauchery you seem to be involved in it would be greatly bloody appreciated, ' Terry's voice tried to stay calm but as that sentence was said his voice became higher and higher and by the end of it screaming for a suitable answer.

Ms Boulangerie tried to take a breath before assaulting Terry with the explanation of events of which she hoped would be a least sufficient to be going on with.

'How to start?' she pondered.

What was the best way to turn this poor wretch of a man's life upside down. She gave up pondering, as it was pointless. Come hell or high-water Terry’s life had changed and whatever choices Terry thought he could make, the inevitable would happen nonetheless. Bigger plans for this watchmaker were afoot.