Malory's store-bought jacket and breeches couldn't begin to compare. He watched as Harold Whitney The Third and Harold Whitney The Fourth entered their lavish party. Covered in hand-sewn purple robes, they strutted in a way that made them so proud. With their blonde heads held high and their blue eyes acknowledging millions with millions, the twins couldn't be anymore aloof.
Malory was flabbergasted when the invitation magically appeared in his letterbox. He was even more confounded when he held the invitation in his hands and felt it's realness.
Harold Whitney The Third and Harold Whitney The Fourth had always lived on the same boulevard as Malory. However, the Bossith household was one of two Old Homes. Old Homes were the first homes to be built. When the Bossith headquarters were built, it was a mansion. Just one year after, the Whitney Castle was built in 1886. The Whitney Castle boastfully held 32 bedrooms, 15 kitchens, 18 lounge areas, 7 libraries, 11 studies, 12 ballrooms, 6 music rooms, 8 gaming rooms, 100 closets, 5 playrooms, 28 sun rooms, 9 grand foyers, thousands of big hallways, 4 eternal pools, 88 gardens, 100 paths, 5 driveways and 2 warehouse garages fit to hold 978 cars. Oh and one huge forest surrounding it all.
Malory kept watching as Harold Whitney The Third and Harold Whitney The Fourth generally accepted guests with their blue eyes. They were near the section where Malory was standing. The twins completely ignored Malory's area. Instead, they turned their heads to the other side. The richer side. The side full of fat, bald men and their skinny wives, voracious for youth.
About another ten minutes later and the twins were near the end of their purple carpet. Their robes were trailing sixty metres behind them. Once at the end they took their seats and had crowns placed upon their heads. Guests clapped. Some even went as far as to whistle and woop. Malory stayed silent. As soon as the dancing started, he awkwardly danced his way up to the twins' thrones. Refusing to speak to him, they turned their left cheek to Malory.
In return, Malory started the conversation.
"The lovely Harolds-"
He was cut off before he could finish off the rest of his sentence. Two guards ended his talking by saying, "Harold Whitney The Third and Harold Whitney The Fourth shun you, hogwash."
Malory tried moving closer, which resulted in him being thrown to the floor. He looked up at the guards and the twins, not stunned. Whilst getting up and dusting off his store-bought jacket and breeches, he smiled and laughed snidely. His laugh was similar to the twins' laugh when they pushed him into the mud at age five. It was the same laugh from when they had poisoned Malory's lunch of peanut butter and jam sandwiches at age ten. The laugh reminded the twins of their own laugh when they had shoved Malory in front of an oncoming train at age fifteen.
And now here they are. Age eighteen.
The twins looked in horror to each other. They turned back to face Malory, only to find that he was gone. The twins began to run and pushed pass people in order to fight for their lives.
Simultaneously, Malory was moving fast through the different rooms of the castle, leaving his hot magic mark.
Guests looked at the twins as if they were crazy chickens with no head; having lost all sense of dignity as their purple robes, now covered in muddy brown shoe imprints, held them just inches short of an exit. The realisiation of how all their riches were weighing them down had suddenly prowled on them. And for the first time in their spoiled, plush lives, the twins didn't want anything to do with their wealth.
Outside waited Malory. Five seconds later, he watched his creation glow. The incandescent castle lit up the night sky and Malory's flames lit up his eyes.
