I quickly slipped the backpack off my shoulder and bolted across the hallway, catching the door with my right hand.
"Thank you, Shane" said Hubert with a quiet murmur of a voice.
Hubert was a pretty average sized gerbillion (a rare mixture of gerbil and lion), but I would have hated to see him crushed by the front door.
"You are welcome, Hubert. Would you like some-"
"Where is your basement?"
He asked with such sincerity, followed by the faintest attempt of a fake sneeze I have ever seen.
"Well, it's downstairs…"
"Oh. Quite right, I shall be off to the basement to begin making my tulip turtle stew. As you know, one cannot waste a minute when tulip turtle stew is to be made."
Hubert quickly entered the house, folded his jacket upon the piano bench, took off his boots (revealing the constant companion to his feet: duck socks), and proceeded up the stairs.
"Oh, Hubert…” I muttered quietly. It was admittedly the faintest attempt to get his attention I had ever attempted.
I do not believe he heard me as he continued to make his way up the stairs, and within a matter of seconds, fell out of the upper annex window, the one just over looking the apricot trees. I rolled my eyes as I pulled my backpack over my shoulder and proceeded into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. I was certain Hubert was fine.
He was, in fact, fine.
However, in his attempt to return inside, he had forgotten his eternal struggle with doors, and alas, he was rather crushed by the back one.
