Biggle´s woke up in his sofa with a nasty hangover.
The sun was shining straight at his face, and the pillow was soaked in sweat.
He rose carefully, checking his balance so he wouldn´t fall face first on the dusty floor, which was in desperate need of a vaccuum cleaner.
Magazines and pizza cartons were all over the place.
The flies were fighting over a piece of left over ham sandwich on the table.
A few occult books were thrown into a corner, and his backpack of utilities, had been turned upside down during the night. Probably during his "night-walk" in the dreamtime.
He slowly managed to go to the bathroom where he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.
A change of pace...a vacation or a real job would be just right.
He laughed to himself.
Imagine him in a office. Staring at a computer allday long. No. This was were he belonged. On the brink of doom. Forever keeping the dark otherdimensional forces out there in check.
Actually being a sorcerer had its benefits.
No early mornings, long lunch breaks and he got to travel a lot.
He took a aspirin and gulped down the water.
Washing his face was torture as his head shook.
The breakfast contained four fried eggs with the sunny side up and some tea.
While sitting there he suddenly missed his friends.
It had been awhile since they had met. 1969 to be exact. The day that Ginger had come to him on a day not unlike this one, and had proposed a mission to the Transylvanian mountains...he should never had said yes.
They were way to old for missions like that...and now here he was...rejuvenated, a new man, with a new mission.
Keep the world safe.
At least he now knew he could ask some people for help if he needed it.
Poor Ginger.
[ 08-12-2002, 01:57 PM: Message edited by: T5 ]
