The Frisbee of Fate

Clack. Clack. Clack, went the pendulum of the old grandfather clock. Michael sat in the study of his large, Victorian house. Everything in the room was an antique: the chair and table he sat at, the grandfather clock, the candelabra, even Michael himself. Sat on a cushioned stool next to him slept Brutus, Michael's chihuahua.

The pages of the book Michael was reading rustled as he turned the page. There was a knock at the door and Michael looked up. Brutus twitched his legs as he slept.

"Come in."

The door opened and in walked Mr Clemmy, briefcase in hand, dressed in the suit of a lawyer.

"Good morning, Mr Compton. I have finished drawing up your new will as you instructed."

"Excellent, thank you, Mr Clemmy." Michael put down his book and reached out his hand. Brutus' head lifted and he wagged his tail.

Mr Clemmy placed the briefcase on the table and clicked open the latches. He ruffled around with the papers inside and finally withdrew the document and handed it to Michael.

"You just need to sign at the bottom of the last page to make it official."

"Very well, but I'm going to have to read it first. You know, just to make sure it's perfect," Michael said, putting on his reading glasses and running his finger across the words as he started to read them.

"I'm so glad you decided to change your old will." Mr Clemmy rubbed his hands nervously on his trousers.

"Why's that?" asked Michael, looking up from the document. "Do you know my family? Do you really think they deserve an equal share of my estate?"

"No. No. That's not what I meant. How you divide your estate is your business." Mr Clemmy's voice wavered. "I just wasn't looking forward to having to wear the tutu that you demanded the reader must wear."

Michael let out a short giggle. "Well yes. Will readings are dull affairs. I had to make it interesting somehow."

"Yes, of course, but a professional lawyer wearing a tutu… it's embarrassing."

"Hmmmm. Maybe I should have left that in." Michael laughed. "I'm glad Jack rang me and convinced me to give everyone an equal share. I should have made it up with the kids long ago, but I'm stubborn, you know." He sighed and placed a hand on the arm of the chair. "I'll ring them in the morning and try and smooth things over."

"Very good, sir."

Lighting up a pipe, Michael went back to reading the new will, while Brutus hopped down from his stool and trotted off to his toy box. He retrieved a frisbee that was almost as big as him and strode over to Mr Clemmy.

Taking a step back, Mr Clemmy shook his head.

Brutus dropped the frisbee at his feet. He tried to ignore it, but Brutus began to growl.

"For heaven's sake, man. Throw the frisbee," Michael ordered, without even looking up from his reading.

Tentatively, Mr Clemmy picked up the frisbee and looked around the room. The door to the study was still open and led onto a long corridor. Perfect. Mr Clemmy bent his elbow and threw the frisbee through the door. Brutus charged out of the room and disappeared into the hall.

Moments passed and Brutus did not return.

"Well. Go and check on him," stated Michael.

Grudgingly, Mr Clemmy walked out of the room to find Brutus. At the end of the corridor sat Brutus next to the frisbee. Mr Clemmy walked slowly towards him. Brutus pawed at the frisbee, and when Mr Clemmy did not respond he growled again.

Michael's voice drifted through the air from the study. "Throw the damn frisbee, man. I pay you enough."

Peering into the office from the far end of the corridor, Mr Clemmy saw Michael pick up a pen and hover it over the paper in front of him. It was nearly over. Once that paper was signed, he could get out of here. He bent down and picked up the frisbee. He bent his elbow and prepared to throw the plastic disc.

Just as he was about to let go, Brutus barked at him, causing him to jump and throwing off his aim. The frisbee left his hand and sailed through the air, flat and true, through the study door where it hit Michael straight in the temple. The pen clattered onto the table as Michael dropped it, then his head dropped to the desk.

Mr Clemmy stared in disbelief, his heart pounding and his head beginning to spin. What had happened? What had he done? He ran into the study and stopped in front of Michael.

"Mr Compton?" His voice broke as he spoke, but there was no answer. "Mr Compton, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

He picked up Michael's hand and tested for a pulse, but there was none. Looking at the will, he noticed that it was unsigned. The will was the only thing that tied him to this. If he got rid of it, then people would think that Michael had just died. He picked up the will and placed it into the fireplace. Striking a match, he placed it onto the paper, which quickly caught fire and destroyed the document.

Standing, he took one last look at Michael. "I'm sorry. I guess I'll be wearing that tutu after all."