Sotheby and Self

Mr. Sotheby keeps his own company. But when a strange figure that looks and acts like him starts prancing into his life, several questions are raised: is this 'oneself' all he is cracked up to be? Who is the woman from another age that keeps haunting him and his other self? Is Derek Sotheby the man he thought he was, or is he the fading shadow of the man that he used to be? - Finished!


9. The Mystery of the Hammer

I tried to stretch my hands in front of my eyes but found they did not want to move. Thinking of it, I couldn't really feel them at all. I tried to snap them out of their trance by shoving them a couple of inches away from the flames in my grate, but only discovered shortly after the burning sensation as they got scolded by the fierce flames,

"Aha!" I laughed, "I can feel you again, you stupid fingers!"

At this point I attempted to stretch my arms above my head in jubilation, but yet again discovered they would not move.

I pulled myself to my feet to discover that my feet were in no such state to do the pulling. I was stuck in my chair.

As I turned my head to on side to try and see where on earth Pug had gotten to, I was almost thrown back by a hammer, banging on the inside of my head. Well, not quite thrown back, because I was, as ever, still sat in my chair, but the pain of a hammer in one's head is quite substantial.

"Damn it!" I cried.

Pug came running, on hearing my cries and trotted up to my tartan armchair, raising himself off the floor to place a paw on the edge of my chair,

"What needs damning?" he asked, flustered.

"Just my damn self!" I retaliated, "I am refusing to move! Stubborn old git..."

"Well," said Pug, puling himself an inch taller, "if you don't mind my saying, it is awfully cold in here."

"That's because the damn boilers broken, damn it!"

"Don't you want it fixed?"

"Damn it!" I mumbled, still more hammering in my head, "And did you drop the hammer through my ears?"

"Sorry?" asked Pug, scratching his behind,

"Someone has put a hammer in my head, so must have dropped it down my ears, and now it's doing awful damage."

"How could someone drop it down your ears without you noticing?" cried Pug,

"It wasn't there earlier, Pug!" I hollered, "And... damn... it's painful!"

"Mr. Sotheby," reflected Pug, "I do believe you to have a headache."

"Nonsense, Pug," said I, "just go and damn it all then!"

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