SPIDER: Chapter 2
Posted: September 27th, 2010, 4:27 am
Title: THE SON OF THE SPIDER, CH 2
Genre: YA
Word Count: 355
Sir Horace helped the MacAlastairs pack up their belongings and carry their suitcases to his car, a silver Rolls Royce Phantom. The grille on the car was reminiscent of a king’s mustache, and its blocky headlights were like steadfast eyes that refused all compromise. Its trunk swallowed up family’s sparse luggage as though the MacAlastair’s owned nothing at all. Due to the luxurious roominess of the car, no one would feel cramped during the long ride from Slum Lane in eastern Roxburghshire all the way to Murkendale Moor in northwest Sutherland.
“Calling it!” shouted Kalison. “Riding shotgun!”
“No,” said Calvin. “I always get shotgun. It comes with the privilege of being older.”
They began to argue, two red-haired, green-eyed, juvenile devils emboldened by their sudden turn of fortune.
Cemetery briefly considered breaking them up, but the last time he had tried that he had accidentally gotten his tail stepped on. Now, being both wiser and worse for the wear, he cynically sat down and watched the action. It was great entertainment, really, if you learned to see it that way.
“Children!” said Elsa. “You’re embarrassing us in front of our distinguished guest!”
Sir Horace was discreetly pretending not to notice their scuffle. It’s what a gentleman does in such situations. That is, he follows Chevalier de Mountpousse’s age-old Maxim of Polite Behavior: Do not embarrass other people. In this case, that meant not staring at Calvin and Kalison’s inappropriate display of youthful exuberance.
“Kalison, I happen to agree with Calvin on this issue. Riding shotgun is a privilege that comes with age—”
“Thank you, Gran!” said Calvin, a bit too soon.
“—which is why I’ll be riding shotgun,” Elsa autocratically announced.
Calvin and Kalison were both disappointed, but they knew better than to argue with Gran. While she could be wonderfully wild and fun, she also had a wicked temper and a caustic wit. At the advanced age of eighty-five, her health had been declining lately, though she still had the raw strength of personality to head a family of two energetic teenagers and a cat that was the fruit of poisoned science.
Genre: YA
Word Count: 355
Sir Horace helped the MacAlastairs pack up their belongings and carry their suitcases to his car, a silver Rolls Royce Phantom. The grille on the car was reminiscent of a king’s mustache, and its blocky headlights were like steadfast eyes that refused all compromise. Its trunk swallowed up family’s sparse luggage as though the MacAlastair’s owned nothing at all. Due to the luxurious roominess of the car, no one would feel cramped during the long ride from Slum Lane in eastern Roxburghshire all the way to Murkendale Moor in northwest Sutherland.
“Calling it!” shouted Kalison. “Riding shotgun!”
“No,” said Calvin. “I always get shotgun. It comes with the privilege of being older.”
They began to argue, two red-haired, green-eyed, juvenile devils emboldened by their sudden turn of fortune.
Cemetery briefly considered breaking them up, but the last time he had tried that he had accidentally gotten his tail stepped on. Now, being both wiser and worse for the wear, he cynically sat down and watched the action. It was great entertainment, really, if you learned to see it that way.
“Children!” said Elsa. “You’re embarrassing us in front of our distinguished guest!”
Sir Horace was discreetly pretending not to notice their scuffle. It’s what a gentleman does in such situations. That is, he follows Chevalier de Mountpousse’s age-old Maxim of Polite Behavior: Do not embarrass other people. In this case, that meant not staring at Calvin and Kalison’s inappropriate display of youthful exuberance.
“Kalison, I happen to agree with Calvin on this issue. Riding shotgun is a privilege that comes with age—”
“Thank you, Gran!” said Calvin, a bit too soon.
“—which is why I’ll be riding shotgun,” Elsa autocratically announced.
Calvin and Kalison were both disappointed, but they knew better than to argue with Gran. While she could be wonderfully wild and fun, she also had a wicked temper and a caustic wit. At the advanced age of eighty-five, her health had been declining lately, though she still had the raw strength of personality to head a family of two energetic teenagers and a cat that was the fruit of poisoned science.