Crow's Questions Part 1
Amos was sweating like crazy. He knew eventually the gig was going to be up; but he had hoped to be long gone before they realized who he was. At the very least, he had expected the real Narrator to have shown up, or at least made contact; but as of yet, he hadn’t heard a peep. The Narrator didn’t even check in for his weekly update on the progress of dissecting of the Characters’ personalities; in essence, what made them tick. Amos never understood this fascination. This is the Narrator’s thing; his fix if you will. Amos just shrugged his shoulders and did what he asked. Anyway, whatever got you off, right? He always had this strange attraction to dangerous warrior women; and the Narrator had this creepy, unorthodox sexual craving to know his characters. A bit weird, but hey, who was he to judge?
Amos checked his or should he say, the Narrator’s Betty Boop alarm clock. He picked it up and turned it over, he’d miss such luxuries when he went back to his own time; whenever that would be. Five minutes before this week’s therapy session was supposed to begin, and still no word. There was just enough time to go over this week’s notes; that is if the characters hadn’t arrived early again. A small explosion boomed from the factory floor below; followed by several others in rapid succession. It sounded as if someone had set off a string of firecrackers. Jumping out of his chair, Amos peered out of the blinds and saw that the characters had gathered in a circle. They appeared to be arguing, quite actively, about something he couldn’t quite make out. Occasionally, one of them would flick something small from the corner of their mouth, would explode upon impact with the floor. From this distance, he couldn’t quite make out which one was causing the disturbance, though Amos figured that it was either Nosos or the Old Man; since this seemed to fit their personality to a T.
Stretching, Amos sighed and once again donned his role of the Narrator. Sitting back down in his chair, he reached out and clicked the mike, “Attention, we’ll be starting in a few moments. Please take your seats; and stop those infernal explosions.”
He watched in amazement as the characters went to their assigned seats with little to no fuss, though the explosions didn’t cease. Their reaction to his request worried him. Usually they’d be fighting or ignoring his requests, driving him to the point of threatening violence to obtain their cooperation. Something that the Narrator didn’t always agree with, but nor did he forbid Amos from doing it.
Reaching forward he clicked the mike, “Thank you for your prompt response. Though, I’m curious, what is causing those explosions?”
“Surely, you know,” the Crow replied.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting, my dear Narrator,” replied the Crow. “It seems that whoever has been backing you with power and information, has left you high and dry.”
