Chapter 30...The Pestiferous Wiffle Bat

Back at his flat, Henry retrieved his mail and took the lift upstairs.  There was a postcard from Cindy, showing an aerial view of a kibbutz.  It looked more like a model than anything real, thought Henry to himself. 

"Having a lovely holiday, wish you were here.  Oh that's original."  Henry scoffed depositing the card into his bag with the tea.  "Fine thing, her just traipsing off on a bloody holiday!"  he snorted.   Stopping to feed Cindy's goldfish, Goldy, on his way to the kitchen, cursing as he did so, "Bloody parasite!" 

He'd just put the kettle to boil when the phone rang.  "WHAT?!" Henry spat into the phone, "NO I DON'T WANT TO purchase AN IN home VACUUM!... I DON'T GIVE A RATS ASS how MUCH IT IS!...NO I DON'T KNOW what A RAT'S ASS IS worth!  WHAT KIND OF A QUESTION IS THAT!?!?!?  I'M JUST NOW HAVING MY TEA!  GOOD DAY!"  With that, he slammed the phone down, accidentally upsetting the fish bowl. "BLOODY HELL!" he bellowed.  The tea kettle had come to a boil and was now singing merrily as he desperately tried to recapture Cindy's fish and deposit it in the sink.  A foolproof plan had the sink not been full of washing detergent and his best cardigan.  "BLAST!" he declared, rushing headlong into the bathroom, fish in hand.  The tea kettles delicate little whistle having now evolved into an ear piercing scream. 

Henry was beside himself.  He threw the fish in the toilet and, slipping on a small wiffle bat, that, to this day Henry had no idea as to where it came from, and fell face first into the toilet, his teeth scraping against the handle and flushing the toilet.  Henry watched in horror as the little gold blur spiraled toward oblivion.  He quickly reached into the water but was unsuccessful at stopping the little carp's descent. 

The phone started to ring as he began using the plunger on the drain in hopes of bringing Cindy's fish back to the surface.  The toilet refused to give up its prize, however, even as Henry performed his desperate, toilet CPR. 

There was water all over the bathroom floor now, and someone was at the door, rapping politely.  He started toward the door but slipped and hit his head on the bathtub.  "OW! DAMN! DAMN! BLOODY, BLOODY HELL!" he cried out.  The person knocking on the door grew impatient and began knocking louder mixed with, "Hello! Henry! Are you there old man?"  Struggling to his knees and now completely drenched, Henry was determined to silence the unrelenting tea kettle.  Diving across the room, he yanked the kettle cord from the wall ending the air raid siren effect, but unfortunately also blowing a fuse in the process. 

With the lights out, the apartment went pitch black.  Henry, who had never cared for windows, felt his way toward the hammering at his front door.  "HENRY! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT!?" came the voice on the other side of the door.  Henry started to say yes but caught his shin on the coffee table, "OW! DAMN! FOR THE LOVE OF... I'M COMING!" he shouted. 

Finally making his way to the door, Henry grabbed the knob and flung it open, bashing himself on the forehead.  Henry, head reeling, whirled towards the door, his flashing eyes filled with fire and brimstone.  "FOR THE LOVE OF DISEASES WHAT IS SO BLOODY IMPORTANT?!" Henry bellowed. 

"Oh I'm dreadfully sorry to have bothered you Henry,” The fellow pipped, “it's just that there appears to be water coming through the ceiling in my apartment."  Henry just stared at him blankly, some of the anger turning to restrained confusion and indifference.  As a slight twitch began developing above his left eye, Henry asked as calmly as he could: "Oh?" 

"I reside below you old chap.. You do remember don't you?  Are you alright Henry?  You look like you could use a good cup of tea!"


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