Wessabessa looks at his watch and sighs.
"Only another day until I go back to
school," He thinks out loud. "And my
homework is far from over."
He reaches over to the far side of his computer desk, pushes a CD cover aside and marvels at what his sister has done to his CD.
May as well be.
A fucking.
Disc.
Jockey.
Scratch! Scratch! Scratch!
Punishment for an unknown cause. He sits there, a look of confusion and angst plastered on his already down-set face.
Muse. His favourite album of all time.
Showbiz.
"Death becomes her," he whispers, opening the door to his sisters dark room. "I hate
silverchair."
Two minutes later, he returns to the computer.
Wessabessa awaits his sister's arrival with quiet satisfaction;
Revenge, a deadly sin, has been administered.
"Andrew, where's my CD?" she asks Wessabessa.
He holds up his own album. His expression says it all.
The two stare at each other, knowing, internally bleeding.
Tonight, Wessabessa will sleep with
one eye open.
Play your moves carefully. Stalemate?
Until the break of dawn, I don't know where the
Queen is.
"And we wait."