Consumption

Chapter Two-Sam

Bang
Bang

The sound of someone at the door.

Pat
Pat
...clink

The sound of my footsteps making their way to the door with the smell of arabic coffee filling the room. As the door opened it revealed the startling sight of a scaly creature.

Dark and precise, its attire was of an enforcer of the law. Screaming scales, irritated and flaky,  replaced dark fabric as my eyes traveled toward its face. With teeth abused and decaying its jaws seperated. Billowing smoke spewed out spreading and pushing words along with it.

" Good morning sir, may I come in...hope you don't mind me smoking. "

Really, it's too early in the morning for this. I haven't even had my coffee yet. I could care less if he smoked.

" No, no I don't mind, come in. Don't choke on you're deathstick on the way in," I mumbled.

" Im sorry, I didn't quite get that. " it said in an indifferent manner.

" Yeah, come in. What brings you to my house drag... officer?"

"This house. It's quite something isn't it."

With every step it took its jagged knife like claws cut through the wood floor, shards splintering into the air. Ruts and deep grooves formed as it scanned the dining room, scouring for a helpless victim. Locking eyes an innocent chair was soon in it's  possesion, trapped. Squealing in protest the leg of the chair dragged on the floor as the dragon sat down.

"Thank you for you're hospitality, uhh... Mr...., " it questioned.

"Sam, you can just call me Sam," I stated.

"Nice to meet you Sam, now that's a name.Just, rollllls off the tongue," the dragon smiled.

"What are you here for? Sorry if that was blunt, but my wife is sleeping."

"I like you Sam, straightforward, right for the throat," he grabs his throat. "I think we will be great friends and I can....but let's get to bussiness. I have an offer for you to assist in a case that I am working on. I was told by the stuck ups, sorry higher ups. I was told by them that you can shed new light and give a new persepective."

This guy could win an award for the most pointless rambling conversation. I wonder if he could send me a recording of his voice, I have been having trouble sleeping. He just needs to get to the...

"Point."

"What was that sir, I didn't quite get that?" it asked.

Snapping back, "Oh I'm sorry, just talking to myself. Can you say that again, please?"

I need someone with an eye for art, and since you are an art critique. I was hoping you would be of some assistance. "

What kind of case would need an art critique?

" What kind of case would an art critque be needed for, " I questioned.

" There has been a series of deaths recently. Deaths that are thoughtout, planned...almost in a way that is sickening. What I am trying to say is that it seems someone is trying to make a demented form of art with dead bodies, " he stated.

Laying there I can see a body. Absent and void of all life with eyes glazed as if staring off in the distance. Who would do such an immoral act, not just killing a person, but to move them around after death. It's just...not right.

Clack
Clack

The dragon tapped his fingers slowly. Challenging me, waiting for me to make the next move.

"Are you okay, feeling; uneasy? " it demanded to know.

I'll be fine. Maybe.

"Yes, yes I'm fine...I think my answer is no, though." I stated.

Its face riddled with surprise and defeat recalculated.

" Sir, I think we got off on the wrong foot, my name is officer Brimstone and..."

" I'm sorry, but my answer is no. Now if you please. " my hand made a gesture to the door.

"But you can be payed for your assistance in the case. Greenbacks! Cheddar! Clams!

"I'm fine, I don't need the..."

"I don't know about you, but I love me some money. Loads of it!"

"Actually, now that you mention it, I know exactly where you can put the money..."

The dragon finally came to the realization that it's proposition was hopeless and swiftly left. Tail dragging as he passed through the door, he turned around to say something but stopped and kept going.

That was close.

"Sam, who was that," a sing song voice from the bedroom rang out. My dear wife.

It was nothing. I don't want this to disturb her day.

" Oh it was nothing, just the mail man talking about the weather, it' supposed to rain later this week, " I told her.

My compliments to the morning news.

Entering the room, she was clothed in a elegant, shimmering dress. Emerald green, that struck a chord somewhere around my heart.

"Paint me like one of your french girls" she said seductively.

Smiling,"Sweetheart, if you keep dressing like that your husband might get jealous with all the guys at your job."

"I guess he's going to have to work harder to keep me happy," she said playfully.

" Would a nice tasty eggs Benedict covered in a tangy Hollendaise sauce with a warm french toast side and freshly squeezed orange juice to top it off sound nice."

"Mmmmm, I might just have to keep him."

Heading back to the kitchen she said,"Saaaam, don't forget your clipboard again. You were absolutely miserable the last time you forgot it." Knowing that I like to use it to keep something inbetween me and a person. Also it makes me look more official.

What would I do without her?

"What would I do without you, " I asked playfully.

"Leave home without your clipboard, " she said as she ate.

"So what is the magnificent Annie Chapman doing dressed like that?"

"She plans to have a night out with the girls, hit the Whitechapel club. Have some drinks, "she smiled. " What is the handsome Sam Chapman doing? "

Destroying the careers of many hopeful artists.

" Probably ruin the career of some new aspiring artist."

"Well he should behave himself, or he might find himself beaten by one of them, " she said brushing her lips againts my cheek.

I'll try to.

Grabbing a piece of paper I write three words down for her, sealing it with some tape.

Something she needed to remember.

"Make sure you remember this, alright, but don't open it until later," I told her. Putting the paper in her hand as she started to head out the door.

"What is it?"

"Just don't forget," I said coyly.

Laughing,"Okay, you are so silly Sam. One of the reasons I married you."

Her eyes were the last to leave my sight as she closed the door. Making my way to the den I put a 78 on the player. A found from a garage sale that my wife found, rummaging through trash and treasure. She has a knack for that kind of thing.

Frank Sinatra
'I'm sentimental, so I walk in the rain. I've got some habits that I can't explain.'