The Beast Within

Inside the starkly white hospital room, an eruption of reds and greens (and, indeed, some more darkly hued emotions) building for years inside the heart of a monarch were suddenly unleashed. Violently throwing aside her bedding, creating a monsoon of down, silk and lace, the hypnotized Queen leapt to her feet.

Any indication of her earlier injury instantly disappeared and her formerly frail physique morphed into that of a predatory creature stalking its prey. As she scanned the outlay of her surroundings, panting heavily, her fingers slowly curling to a fist and then suddenly pitching back again to reveal her satin claws, she spotted something that caught her attention.

A chair.

She crept slowly toward it in her hypnotized state, slinking seductively, her eyes intently gazing upon the broad wooden back and strong supportive legs. Outside the door, fifteen dismountees stood petrified by the sounds of heavy breath, as feathers still fell to the floor.

What would she do to this poor piece of furniture? Why must chairs always be made to suffer at the hands of the hypnotized?

As she made her final preparations for her pounce on the hunted, the doors suddenly flew open and a mass of stunned men, unsure of their next move, stood frozen as ostriches.

The Queen roared. The hospital shook. A patient downstairs screamed.

Her Majesty grabbed the chair and raised it effortlessly above her head. She turned toward the window and threw the chair through it, shattering the glass completely. She dashed through the opening with amazing dexterity and quickness. Out into the English fog, she disappeared.

~~~

Meanwhile, in Paris, an extremely miffed Git emits a spray of washer fluid and wipes furiously at his windshield. “Bananas!”

Sir Mick leaps from the car and looks to see who launched the fruit. An open door and the distinct sound of American laughter draw his attention immediately. And what is this? Could that really be her on the veranda!

Excitedly, Mick dashes toward the revolving hotel door.

“Wait Mick!” Git shouts. “We’ve got an urgent message from Scotland Yard! Something’s happened to the Queen. We have to go-- IMMEDIATELY!”

“But we’re so close, this will only take a minute. I’m going in.”

“NO Mick. Your first duty is to your Queen and she needs you now more than ever.”

Torn between his love and his country, Mick walks slowly back to the car and to what he knows to be right. Before getting in, he turns back for a last look at the woman he’s leaving behind, who is now staring directly back at him. She’s heard everything.

“I’m coming back, you know.” He shouts to her.

“I’ve heard that before.” She thinks to herself, but says nothing. Instead, she stares back at him coldly, pretending not to care, and flips her cigarette over the balcony.”

Mick turns back to the car, a little more quickly this time, and goes to get in. He spots something unusual on the ground near Git’s tire and goes to inspect it.

--“R”, another tile.--

He picks it up quickly and places it in his pocket before speedily driving away from the tragic city of love.

“I will go back, you know.” He says, as though trying to convince himself.

“I know, Mick. I know.”

...

Rising slowly, Jerry turns to the open door adjacent to hers, blots her eye with a neatly folded handkerchief, and says sternly,

"Oh Se-eth. Come here please.

I'm bored. Entertain me."