Harold Humdinger Novels & Stories

] [Here's what you do: slip the security guard a few hundred, ask if anyone's been coming in and out. I just stared at the screen, heart racing, mind spinning. Distracted, I changed and headed out to dinner. Stuart had booked my favorite spot. He couldn't handle spicy food, but still ordered a full table of flaming red dishes just for me—sweating and chugging water the whole time. For a second, I felt guilty. 'Maybe I AM overthinking this.' Halfway through dinner, I couldn't hold it in. "The hamster we raised died. You know that, right?"

Their eyes were wide in disbelief as they blurted out, "You're alive!" I felt my heart skip a beat because the man before me wasn't just anyone, but Harold White, the butler who had drowned in the sea years ago while trying to save Dad. "Mr. White, you're alive!" I exclaimed. Harold looked at me and chuckled, patting my head. "It's been years, Mr. Jake. You're all grown up." "Stop with the act, Jake!" Luther bellowed. "You think putting a few actors in makeup can fool us? I'm telling you, it won't work!"

I fix myself. We park and exited the car. We enter the elevator and go to the 12th floor of the building. "Mr. Brooklyn!" An old man shouted. Hilary's dad and the old man bro hug each other and shake hands. "Here's my daughter Hilary." I bowed and shake hands. "And here's my son, Richard." A five-foot and nine inches tall guy wearing a mask extends his hand. I shake hands with him. "So let's talk about the wedding?"

Lars asked Harold first "Can you identify himself?" “No, it's just a woman.” Harold shook his head. “She secretly goes to see Clara Diaz at night, not often, nor is the time fixed. Now she was there, and Lucas was watching over them. Several times I almost got exposed, that woman is very cunning, we must act quickly before she finds out.” Lars nodded and looked at Harry. "I spotted termites on the eastern edge of the woods, looks like Doris was locked up there," said Harry immediately. "But there's a problem with that place where there are non-humans, so I'm not sure that I can save her on my own.”

Can’t talk. Not Dann. Dann paid $50K. Gone. Not Walker. Walker’s in prison. Different one. Old. 70s. Maybe 80s. Coat. Cheap. Holding something. Envelope. Not thick. Thin. “Mr. Knight?” Man said. Voice shaky. Not threat. Tired. “Yeah,” Adrian said. Not moving. Body blocking door. “Who are you.” _Thump._ “Name’s Harold,” Man said. “Harold Calhoun.”

he’s cleaning his body as if he could take away all the dirt and the smell, the old man took a small brown pouch and hand it to Harold. “Go buy yourself a decent cloth and food. You promise never to steal again.” And he walks by, leaving Harold in awestruck. He opens the pouch and found $1000. It was enough to buy him a decent cloth and a meal. For the first time, Harold developed hope on humanity. He sees a bit of light in the life he thought was all cruel. The Eaters lose strength and I got a good chance of slaying them, but before I finish them all, three of them manage to flee.

His face looked calm, but his mind was spinning thinking about his next move regarding Leonard. The door to the room opened softly and Harold entered with steady steps. He wore a neat gray suit, a loosened tie, and a tired face that still held the firmness of an officer. Harold approached the sofa where Damian was sitting. “I can't believe you still have time to relax here, Damian,” Harold said as he took off his sunglasses and put them in his suit pocket. He flopped down onto the sofa across from Damian and let out a long breath. Damian grinned slightly, placing his whiskey glass on the table. “Don't get me wrong, Harold. I'm working. You know this club is also an information center, right?

I shook my head as we made a halt in front of his silver car. It was going great! Actually marvelous would be a better word to describe it. I kept finding myself in situations were i was so shocked i nearly was not expecting half the butterflies rumbling my stomach as i held on to them and laughed my guts out while Damien just sat there watching me along with the other guests being spun around on stage to the old town stage performance by Edward Winger and his partner Jeremy Conway that came all the way from Texas to perform.

I didn’t turn around. “I heard something.” Harold sighed, long and low, like a tired father indulging his stubborn son. “You’ve said that five times in the last hour.” “It’s not paranoia if I’m right.” “You kidnapped his ex, not his son or someone much important. I doubt he’ll even bother with a visit.” I finally turned, slowly, glaring at him from over my shoulder. Harold stood near the fireplace, his arms folded neatly across his chest. Always composed. Always maddeningly calm.

His smile showed how uncomfortable he was even before he opened his mouth and introduced himself with a little self-conscious wave. “Hi, I’m actually the one giving the weird questions. I’m Hal. Halton Hicks. I round out this team of investigators.” “Oh, that answers my question. Hal’s your tech guy, isn’t he?” “Yes, how do you know that?” Ian looked at Yolanda in confusion. “Why do you ask that?”