Don't wanna wake up yet. There were many reasons he didn't want to awaken, the most prevalent being that he had really enjoyed the dream which had been interrupted. Wakin' up also means reportin' ta H.C.. 'N' reportin' ta H.C. means -- means . . . He groaned again and buried his head in his pillow. An instant later, the alarm clock went off. Steelbeak shot out a hand and hammered on the snooze button. "Shaddup," he growled.

His hand flopped off the clock and landed on the small leather appointment book he'd kept since he joined F.O.W.L.. Sluggishly, Steelbeak opened his eyes and rubbed at them with one hand while picking up the appointment planner with the other. As the sleep faded from his vision, the rooster peered at the open page of his little black book.

"Noon, meet wit' Tina. Six, dinner wit' Rita." he read aloud. "Dat's an old one!" I haven't 'ad a day like dat for at least a year. Not since dat fiasco wit' Ammon-i-a Pine. Whatta nightmare!

Steelbeak groaned at the memory. He'd used his charms to sucker Agent Pine into working with him. It had backfired, unfortunately, and though Ammonia had paired up with him, she'd also gotten the idea that he wanted to marry her. It had taken a lot of sacrifice to get out of that -- Steelbeak still remembered the dry cleaning bill he'd gotten by spoiling his best jacket in a successful attempt at grossing-out the clean-freak. After that, he'd decided that he'd leave the charming to women he wouldn't have to see at work the next morning. Maybe that's what they meant about mixing business and pleasure.

His musings on the subject were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Yeahwhat?" He grumbled, climbing out of bed and throwing on his robe. "Who izzit?"

"Durr, newspaper."

Steelbeak stalked into the living room of his apartment and yanked the door open, glaring at a routinely stupefied Eggman. "T'anks." He said, snatching the St. Canard Herald irritably, then slammed the door shut. "Now dat I'm up . . ." He ambled into his small kitchen.

After fixing himself a cup of espresso, Steelbeak sat down on the couch -- as it currently faced one of the picture windows overlooking the city's famous skyline -- and unfolded his paper. On the front page was an article about a two-headed turkey being born at the city zoo among some other inane public interest stories loosely tied to the Thanksgiving holiday. Steelbeak rolled his eyes, then noticed a small byline for the arts section. "Enthralling New Production of Hugo Masterpiece at Schubird Theater," he read.

go back | return to table of contents | continue