Chris

It was reduced to a pulp encrusted in the irregular asphalt of the road. In places, some tufts of blood matted hair were sticking out. It could have been a cat... or a large squirrel. Chris was far away from those considerations. He was three and busy poking it with a stick, cocking his head to one side.
- “Christopher, come here ! We're going to be late !”
Regretfully, he left his gruesome find and went to meet his mother in the driveway.

Once in the car, she tried to calm herself down. What would his father say? Him and his new bimbo... It wasn't her fault if they were always late everywhere... She knew she could barely cope with the situation : her son, her job, the house, the mortgage, that useless ex of hers. She had already enough on her mind without his constant reproach and incessant criticism... And now, with the cat who disappeared...
- “I've seen Pooky”, said Chris absent-mindedly, out of the blue.
- “Oh ? Was he fine ?
- It didn't say...”
What a strange child, she thought.

       

Four Wheeled Shelter

Told you we would see him again... Rupert returns !... to do nothing, as usual...


Rupert Rutherford (the third) was at the wheel of his pristine Ford Capri, like every morning, at 8.12am. And, as usual, like the traffic surrounding him, he was going nowhere fast. Birthday or not, the M4 was as grey and sluggish as it has ever been. But Rupert didn't mind. There's not much that Rupert minded.
He was comfortable, warm and dry, and breathing in the faintest pine wood smell of a very sober looking air-freshener. Rupert didn't really love this car – he wasn't exactly of the petrol-head type – but he had a strong sense of gratefulness towards it. It was, in a way, his sanctuary. He always felt secure in this beige interior... and he secretly liked the almost corduroy fabric of the seats.
He had bought the Ford second hand, a couple of years ago, and had been relatively proud about it – unlike his wife, Bernadette, who positively hated the car – not so much because it was a bargain, it wasn't, but it had been very clean... and still was.
In the background, Radio 4 was playing, on the verge of human perception, some inane babbling on subjects that were of no interest to Rupert.