“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!” Yelled the Baron of Owoefij. The intruders scoffed and thought, what will you do, throw plates? Yes thought Lord Yarwe. I will do just that. So he ran to the kitchen and got a stack of Jular plates, a kind of plate that, if broken, will slice through you skin like a hot knife would slice butter. He came back and plates flew. The intruders shrieked in agony and the plates broke on their craniums. They ran out of the manor as fast as they could. “And stay off my lawn!” yelled the baron as he pressed the button to alert a servant to clean up the shards.
Soon, a servant came in a suit that would protect him from getting cut by the Jular shards. Eddy Yarwe sighed. That was over. Now the aftermath would come. Soon word would spread about the break in and how it was handled. Then, the press would come, hoping that a barrage of plates wouldn't be awaiting, expecting their arrival. Then the questions would come. They always came. There would be questions about what happened, why it happened, how the baron felt about the happenings, and all kinds of other ‘happen’ questions. Of course, Lord Yarwe wouldn't hear anything of it, but it was still stressful.
When the baron went to the plate store to get new plates, everyone stared. Of course, people usually started, because come on! He was the Baron of Owoefij! But after the plate incident, there was more staring than usual. He walked by the press building. A journalist came out, but one glare told him that the Lord Yarwe would not bother to listen of answer any questions about the ‘plate thing’. The baron still expected the press to come to his home sometime. He bought his plates and went home. He waited. One day, two, three, a week! The press never came. Eddy was exhilarated. They never came! The press never came! He was so excited, he threw plates all over. He then pressed the button that would alert the servant. Then, he left his manor to buy more plates.