Lord Bobby's Unique Daubreyeon

"I am going to kill him."

"Your grace, you're not going to kill anyone."

"Not now. But I am going to kill him very soon."

"Yes, your grace."

"You know how I'm going to do it?"

"No, your grace."

"I'm going to torture the bastard and make him scream for mercy until he's got nothing left. Then I'll burn his eyes out of their sockets with a red hot poker and cut off his tongue so he can't call for help or beg for death. And then I'll chop off his arms and legs and use them as fish bait in the Amazon river. Until he's dead. And then I'm getting rid of that stupid fucking bird."

The man sat in the warm bath and sighed with contentment. He had so many troubles in his life, but the bath always made it better. The bath was a small thing, but it made all the difference. It was one of those rare things in life that was always exactly what you wanted when you wanted it. He closed his eyes and let himself drift on the soft warm water while he smoked his cigarillo. "Ahhhh," he moaned happily, "this is wonderful!" He took another drag of his cigarillo and emptied the dirty bathwater down the drain. There was just enough hot water left in the tank for one more quick soak before bedtime, so he quickly drained most of it into the tub and refilled it with some cold water from the tap before pouring in some fresh hot water from the heater on top of that. As soon as it was filled up again, he layed back in it again and closed his eyes again with a happy sigh of satisfaction. It was such a luxury!

The man looked at his watch impatiently as he paced around behind his desk. His chief advisor walked towards him nervously with a worried expression on his face. "Sir," he said, "the reports you've been waiting for have arrived."

The man glared at him angrily before throwing a punch straight into his face. The chief advisor fell backwards onto the floor unconscious immediately with blood streaming out of his nose and an egg growing over one eye. The man opened his desk drawer and took out a small pistol which he cocked before pointing it at a small grey parrot sitting on its perch next to the window sill across the room from him. "Who is this fucking bird?" He yelled angrily at no one in particular before shooting at it six times point blank range through its cage door until finally splattering its brains all over window sill and wall behind it with a loud BANG! The parrot jerked violently after each shot as if having little seizures until finally collapsing sideways lifelessly onto its side as blood dripped from its beak onto the wooden perch below it forming slowly widening bloody puddles around its body like strange red raindrops slowly forming on a piece of paper lying out in a rainstorm somewhere far away where no one could hear its cries while everyone else just carried on with their normal lives without noticing anything unusual other than perhaps noting that suddenly there were six less birds than there were yesterday evening outside their kitchen windows singing merrily at dusk while they drank their tea...

Suddenly someone burst into the room and shouted: "Sir! Sir! There's been an attack!" The man spun around angrily towards him: "What? What are you talking about? Who has attacked us? We're at war?"