Chuck has had great ideas and this week, he used Sai King titles. Well, I picked out 'The Shining' - which I'm currently reading - and have put a great spin on spin on it.
Uncle Charlie was an amazing man. He had amazing things around his brilliant home out in the country; and I loved visiting him as a child and throughout my teens and right through my university years. But when he died at the rich old age of eighty-seven, out in his garden with his carer by his side helping him tend to his rose garden, I thought he would have left me more than his cockatoo.
The bird eyed me suspiciously as I approached the massive cage in the living room, knowing his owner was no longer around, cawing a little at me.
“Hi, Richie. You know me.” I said.
A low whisper came from the bird: “Hi Richie. I’m Richie.”
“Well, Uncle Charlie thought you and I got along well and you’re to come home with me.”
“Well, not quite.” The lawyer’s voice said behind me and I turned to see him walking in from the study, “You have to live here seeing the bird has lived his whole life at the house.”
“So, is it Richie’s house or mine?”
He shrugged, “It’s both of your house.”
“I have my own house in the city with my own furniture and my own... oh jeez.... what do I have to do?”
He smiled handing over an envelope, “Read the instructions and you’ll have the house, the bird and the money.” On ripping open the envelope, I heard a moving truck pull up the long driveway and looked out the window. Before I could say anything, the lawyer said, “Oh, while you were here, your house in the city was packed up and everything you own was moved out here.” He patted me on the shoulder as he walked out to the front foyer to pick up his coat, “Your Uncle Charlie believed greatly in you.”
I sat and read the contents of the envelope next to the window as the truck was unloaded. At the bottom of the letter, it said: To get to the valuables, there’s a password: ‘whatcha got there?’ I had no idea what it meant.
For the first night, I walked around the massive country home looking at everything in the place. I felt as though I was in a Scooby-Doo episode; waiting for something to jump out at me, and that Great Dane to come galloping down the hall looking terrified.
But instead, I left on only a few small lights, covered over the cockatoo and pulled all the curtains to keep out the cold and made sure the kitchen was tidy before heading off to bed.
I sat up in bed and turned on the light, forgetting where I was for a moment.
Rubbing my temple I groaned,“Oh, jeez that hurt.” I looked over at the book I had been reading before I turned out the light and found it was ‘The Shining’ by Sai King, “I’m imagining it. It’s the book I’m reading.” And I settled back down in my bed and turned out the light.
‘Help! I’m being choked! Help me!!!’
This time, I pulled on my dressing gown, shoes and grabbed a torch and my mobile phone to see what was going on for me to hear this weirdly haunting screeching noise in my head at the ungodly hour of – I looked at my phone – three in the am. Heading down the main hall, I raced down the stairs with my dressing gown billowing out behind me.
There was a draft of cold breeze coming from the front door.
I didn’t leave that open.
“Squark!” Richie screeched from his large cage, “Help me!! I’m choking! Help!”
I felt for the light switch, flicked it on.
Light flooded the room.
I stood there shocked to find Richie’s cage was open and Uncle Charlie’s carer was there with his hands around the bird, murder most foul in his eyes!
“What are you doing?”
He spun, still with the bird in his hands, staring at me, “Um... I’m sorry.”
Richie took the opportunity and dug his large accommodating beak into the man’s wrist, drawing blood – and refused to let go.
The carer howled in pain, flapping his arm – in which Richie began flapping his enormous wings. I did all I could to not laugh at this as my new companion defended himself against his would-be murderer and called the police.
“What we don’t understand, sir is that you came here to kill an innocent bird?” the attending constable said as he took notes and the on-call vet checked on Richie.
The carer glared at the cockatoo and then at me; and it dawned on me and I walked over to my new pet, “Richie, where’s Uncle Charlie?” Richie looked around me and glared at the carer, unable to say anything. I turned and looked at the carer, “Were you with my Uncle Charlie when he died?”
The carer nodded, “Yes, he was tending to his roses and I told him it was time to come in. Richie was in his travelling cage and...”
“I’ve looked around this house thoroughly, Richie never had any other cage than this one.”
The carer looked to his hands, “Um... well....”
The cop looked at the guy, “Tell us the truth.”
“The bird guards something in his cage. It’s valuable.” The carer said, “And the bird only trusted one person.”
We all turned and looked at the cage and Richie looked at me. I approached him, whispering: “Hey Richie, whatcha got there?” as the bird heard the words, he moved across to a tiny nesting box in the corner and retrieved a key from within it and handed it over to me.
I looked around the room: now to find the thing to fit this key!