Sominyx sat in his favorite cushioned
chair, staring dreamily into the fire. His
long, ivory pipe, grown quite cold during
his meditations, was still firmly clamped
between his yellowed teeth. A long,
gnarled finger, ending in a curved nail,
lingered on the last passage Sominyx had
been reading in the ancient tome resting
on his robed lap.


BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! 

?Open up, quick! ?Tis I, Pustule! Hurry!
It?s trying to kill me!? came a muffled
shout from the front door. 

Sominyx?s eyelids flickered at the interruption. Casting a bemused glance at the
thick, wooden door, he shook his wizened
head, chuckling softly to himself. ?Ah, the
impatience of youth,? he sighed.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! 

?Hey, Sominyx! I?m not kidding! It?s right
behind me!?


Slowly, the wizard elevated his ancient
form from its comfortable resting place
and picked at the few specks of lint that
had accumulated on his robes. Then,
noticing for the first time that his pipe was
o u t ,   h e   r e a c h e d   f o r   a   t h i n   t a p e r   w i t h
which to relight it. The pounding continued in the background.