Zerg Rush

Nicholas sat on the couch, reading his favorite leather bound book. He would lovingly caress each of the pages as he turned them and held the book with the same gentle tenderness a mother gave to her newborn child. As he read he tucked a wayward lock of long hair back behind his ear. The gold leaf pages were almost the same color as his hair and a similar tone to his softly golden skin. Not the bronzed color sun worshipers had, but more like real polished gold.

The couch he lounged on was a Victorian mahogany fainting couch. It was upholstered in beige tapestry material and had lion's claw feet. The Persian rug beneath it was a blend of reds, ranging from a light rose to dark merlot with a matching beige base. A similar color scheme continued up the walls and even to the mahogany fan that slowly oscillated over his head.

A warm fire burned cheerfully before him, partially illuminating the room. A tiny lamp with bronze art nouveau women holding up the bulb supplied most of the reading light that he needed. It sat on a small round table, also mahogany, beside the armrest of the fainting couch. The lamp shade was a deep rich wine red with clear sparkling beads dangling from the edge.

He paused, mid page turn and lifted his head. The peace and silence around him was slowly being replaced by a steady thumping sound. The lamp by his side began to shudder, sending the beads swaying, first gently, then more franticly as the room began to tremble more forcibly. His eyes widened and he looked around expectantly. The couch he lounged on began to shake as if an earthquake had gripped his home.

Then, suddenly, without warning came a booming cry: "Zerg rush!"

Nicholas tossed his book in the air and braced himself. A massive demonic shape leapt into the air and flew at him with a gleeful laugh. Just before the impact Nicholas flinched, closed his eyes and held his breath.

Nickodamous slammed into him with full force. The couch under him shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering across the elegant rug. The lamp and its table were thrown back by the impact. The table bounced twice on the floor before rolling to a stop. The lamp landed with a heavy thud and only the light bulb broke.

The book fluttered to the ground, landing inches away from Nicholas' head. He opened his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. Crouched over him, not putting any of his ample weight on the much smaller man, his friend grinned down at him.

"That is the third eighteenth century French fainting couch this year." Nicholas said softly.

"I don't like fainting couches." Nickodamous replied, standing up. He stretched out his wings and shook some dusk his tackle had kicked up off his shoulder.

Nicholas rolled to his side and dusted off his black silk drawstring pants with a long suffering sigh. "Never a dull moment."

The End!!!

Yeah, so what if it's short. Bugger off!