Stand And Deliver (1130 hits)
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Submitted by Uber Madness 2004 (View user info) at 2004-10-24 23:10:25 EDT
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Entry 1
Splat. Splat. Splat.My shoes slapped against the grown sloppily as I advanced down the crowded sidewalk of the city, my hat and sunglasses on, my head hung low. I didn't want anyone to see me or to find out who I was. Ironic. A few years back, I would have killed for the attention that I get nowadays. Not only do I not want the attention, but I'd give anything for life to be normal again.
I stopped in front of the newspaper stand, staring at the ground.
"One Sunday paper, please." I glanced at the small bald man behind the stand.
''Here you are sir."
"Thanks."
I began to scuffle the direction from which I came when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around.
"What do you want?"
A grey-haired man in a dirty white t-shirt and worn out blue-jeans was standing there with a young boy. "I don't mean to bother you, but you look exactly like--"
"I'm not him!"
"I'm sorry sir, I just--"
"I said I'm not him!"
I swung my body around to get away from the twosome, throwing my sunglasses to the ground by pure accident.
"It's him! Look, son! It's him!"
I retrieved my sunglasses and gave the man a hand gesture to keep his voice down. "Can you please not draw any attention? Listen, I don't do autographs anymore. You and your son leave me the hell alone!"
I tucked my paper under my arms and stormed toward my intended direction, pushing people out of my way to get back to my apartment. I didn't eye anyone the entire way home. This is how it is every time I go out. Someone always has to point me out, then greedy bastards want me to sign autographs, kiss their babies and smile for their pictures. I have more important things to do, why can't they have the decency to leave a human being alone?!
"How was your adventure today, honey?"
"Absolutely awful. A man and his boy recognized me and wouldn't leave me alone. They probably wanted an autograph. Even then, they'd probably turn around and sell it on E-bay. Everyone's always thinking about themselves."
My wife gave me an evil look as I hung my hat on the hanger. "They're thinking about themselves? You've really got some nerve saying that. A few years ago, you'd sign autographs for everyone, make public appearances for good causes, and even donate thousands of dollars to charity. Now, you do nothing."
"People only want me to donate so that they could say that someone famous gave them money. Remember when I gave 15 thousand dollars to Mayberry Hospital? What did they do with the money? The idiots built a statue up front of me with the money. From that day forward, I decided that I knew what better to do with my money than hospitals and charities."
I lowered myself into my chair. "I'm a washed up celebrity and I don't mind it one bit."
My wife strolled over and sat beside me. "You're not washed up. You know those guys that have been past their prime but are still trying to make movies? They're washed up. You got out of Hollywood when you were on top, dear."
She may be the total opposite of me, but I love the woman. I met her before I got my first big role and she stayed with me through everything.
"Hand me a beer."
She walked to the refrigerator as I flipped on the TV. "Dale?", she said.
"Yes?"
"Why didn't you give the little boy an autograph? I'm sure he'd love to brag to his friends that he got the autograph of action-hero Dale Flemmings."
"Ehh", I muttered.
"It's not because of what happened with Timmy Young, is it?"
"I don't want to talk about that! Don't you ever bring that up!", I snapped.
Fifteen years ago, I walked into an audition for a new up and coming action hero named 'Klank'. The character was a super hero of sorts. He fought crime, helped kids, and was an all around cookie-cutter good guy. Lo and behold, I somehow got the part. In theaters, the movie did way better than expected, causing a sequel. Then a prequel. Then three more movies. Klank was a household name and I was the face that went with the super hero. 3 years ago, I was asked to do a seventh installment of the Klank series.
I declined and never shot another movie since.
Fortunately, my film career grossed enough money for my wife and I to survive the rest of our lives without having to work. I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I'm content. I like things just the way they are and I don't want them changed.
''Oh, by the way, Dale-- We have a meeting tomorrow with our lawyer to discuss our financial assets."
"Mr. Flemmings. Mrs. Flemmings. I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"What??", I sat on the edge of my chair inside the lawyer's office. "What kind of bad news?"
"Well, your actions of late have resulted in several lawsuits against you, sir."
"WHAT ACTIONS?!"
"That action right there. Your short temper. Apparently, the past few weeks several people have claimed that you pushed them to the ground-- some even say you've gotten into physical fights with them."
"THEY'RE FUCKING LIARS!"
"Calm down sir."
My wife put her hand on my knee and tried to talk calmly, "What options do we have?"
"Well ma'am, by doing the math, we've concluded that it's cheaper to settle out of court. Seeing as how you're a big celebrity, Mr. Flemmings, it's more likely you'd lose in court. As your lawyer, I advise against that."
"Just-- do whatever you have to do. I don't care anymore." I flopped back in my chair and folded my arms.
"Unfortunately, it looks like your financial assets are dwindling, sir."
That comment caught me off guard. I was just expecting to pay these people off and get on with my existence. All people want from me is my money. Nobody gives a damn that I have a life to live.
After several days of pondering, conversing, and discussing with my wife-- we came to the conclusion that I'd have to make a few personal appearances to get our bank account back on track. Well, she pretty much demanded I make personal appearances.
"Honey, I booked your first appearance."
"Just great", I said as I threw my golf bag down on the ground. "Today was going just grand. I go out and have a nice round of golf by myself, just me and the outdoors. Then I come home to find out this. Where's it at?"
"At the local hospital."
That following weekend, I entered the children's floor of the hospital. Just being there made me sick. My intentions were to go in, say a few things to the kids, and get out within a half hour.
"Mr. Flemmings! Hi, I'm nurse Judy, glad you could make it. Basically, all you have to do is visit with each child and give them some inspiration, you know? Something to make them look forward to life."
I looked her cold in the eye. "What do I look like to you?"
"You played a super hero that these kids can look up to, so --"
"No! I'm not super hero. I played one in movies. I'm just an average human being that everybody happens to recognize, that's the only thing that sets me apart from you or anyone else. You expect me to give these kids inspiration in life? I'm a 44 year old man who hates life and everyone in it. I'm Dale Flemmings, not Jesus."
Her jaw dropped open as I walked passed her.
Room 3A. Let's just get this over with. I peaked around the entrance of the doorway and into the room. A small boy was sitting up in bed typing away on his laptop computer as he occasionally looked up to glance at the cartoons on TV.
"Uh... hey kid."
"Hey! It's you, Klank!!"
"Don't call me Klank. I only play him on the big screen. Call me Dale. What are you in here for, kid?"
I asked him as if I gave a damn.
"Hey! You remember in 'Stand and Deliver' when you had to fight the evil Dr. Split? 'Member the first fight when he beat you and you said that thing? Can you say it for me? Pleeease?"
"Sorry, bud. I don't do that anymore."
"Please??? Please??"
He wouldn't let up, so I half-heartedly quoted the line that made me famous.
"....and I WILL stand against evil. I will deliver good all over the world."
"That was awesome!!"
"Where are your parents, boy?"
"My mommy and daddy died when I was 6. I lived in a foster home up until I got sick and needed a kidney."
"Having a hard time getting one, huh?"
"I'm on the list. They say it'll be a while."
"So...um...you've just been sitting here everyday? No visitors?"
"Nope. I talk to my friend Sammy online, so he keeps me company."
"What's your name?"
"Timmy."
I didn't say goodbye to the 8 year old boy. I just turned and walked out. I was furious that a hospital could leave a child sitting in a room alone all day, yet I didn't feel sorry for him. Something inside me wouldn't let me feel any pain for the boy.
I stopped the first nurse I saw. "Excuse me, doesn't Timmy here have any friends to come see him? Or family?"
"No sir. He doesn't have any family that we know of, nor does he have any real friends. As best I can tell, you're the first visitor he's had since he's been here."
"How long has he been here?"
"About 8 months, sir."
"Why doesn't anyone visit with him? Why doesn't anyone care about him?"
"Listen sir, he's on the list awaiting a kidney. That's the best we can do. It'll be years before he actually gets one, and by then, it'll be too late."
"Too late?"
"He's not expected to live but another 2 months."
"THEN BUMP HIM UP THE LIST!"
"If it were only that easy." She began to walk off. "Oh, and I liked you in 'An Enemy's Scorn'."
Damn hospital. It's just like a public place like this to not give a shit about a suffering child. I glanced back into the room to see Timmy clacking away on his keyboard before I finally walked out of the hospital.
"So you're the first visitor he's had in months, dear?", my wife set the tea down on the coffee table in front of me.
"Apparently so. The bastards don't even have videos, video games, or any special programs to get the boy out of the hospital. They told me bluntly that he's going to die soon, so just leave him be."
"Honey, are you sure you're mad at the hospital and not just taking a liking to the boy?"
"Don't start with that again. For all I know, he's a little brat. But he's dying, so it's different."
The next morning, I woke up early and threw on my slippers and overcoat. I didn't bother to disguise myself on this particular day. I didn't intend to set foot into Timmy's hospital room again, but in fact, that's exactly what I did that morning.
I looked into the room to see the boy, once again, typing away on his computer.
"Whatcha doin', kid?"
"It's you again!! They told me you weren't coming back! I knew they were wrong!"
"Yea, I'm back. Who you talking to?"
"Sammy. He's my age and likes the same stuff I do."
"So, do you ever get out of here? It has to get boring.''
"I haven't had a Happy Meal in a while! Can we go to McDonald's??"
I ask this kid if he ever gets out of here and all he wants is a Happy Meal. "Yeah, get your slippers on."
"Awesome!!"
I trudged down the hall with Timmy walking beside me when the nasty nurse stopped in front of us.
"Where do you think you're going with him?!?!?"
"I'm just taking him to get something to eat. We'll be right back."
"I don't think so. He's not allowed to leave this floor."
"EVER?"
"That's right."
"So he's supposed to stay up here for the whole two months he's expected to live?!"
Before I realize what I'd just said and who I said it in front of, I heard a scream and turned around to see Timmy scurrying back to his room.
"Great, look what you did!", yelled the nurse as she ran past me.
I sat in the char beside Timmy. "Anyone sitting here?"
His tear-filled eyes glared at mine. "Is it true? Do I really only have two months?"
My eyes wandered down. "Listen, I'm up there in age. I've only got a limited amout of time here on Earth. Look at you, you have a shot at life, though. You have a chance to make these last two months the greatest two months a kid can have."
"But.. but.. how? They won't let me go anywhere, Klank."
He wouldn't stop calling me my on-screen super hero alias. "How about...I take you wherever you want."
"Wow, you really mean it??"
"Shh. You've got to keep it a secret. I'll sneak in here tonight and get you. Be ready. Just don't tell anyone, okay?"
"You got it Klank!"
After walking through my front door, my wife met me at the door and hugged me.
"You went to see the boy, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I couldn't help it.
"You're finally opening up again. It took a dying child to make you open up again, but I'm glad the old Dale is back. You know this boy is going to die soon, please don't go back to the Dale I've known the past few years. Please?"
"I can't promise. I thought I'd never open up to another kid again."
"You remember what happened with Timmy Young, don't you?"
She caught me off guard, as I just realized that Timmy had the same name as another young boy I got close to years earlier. "Yes, I remember. I remember perfectly. I met him one day when he asked for my autograph, I happily obliged. After his parents invited me over for dinner, I took a liking to the young man. I visited him at least three times a week, going to all of his little-league baseball games. I knew he had cancer, I just didn't think God would take such a lively boy with so many dreams from this world that early. I promised him that if he died, I'd never make another movie or get close to another person like him. Then he died."
"That's right. Just please don't let it happen again. You know what you're getting yourself into."
I retired to my bedroom, refusing to hear the inevitable, and fell asleep. I woke up at looked at the clock.
2:23 AM.
Just like I did earlier that morning, I threw on my clothes. Only this time, I took the time to find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I headed down to the hospital and pressed the 'up' button on the elevator. I took a deep breath as the doors opened to the children's floor.
I walked down the hall, keeping my head down. I heard footsteps and ducked behind a soda machine. The same nurse that stopped me last time walked right by me. I quickly took off toward Timmy's room, slipping in and shutting the door behind me. There was Timmy, typing away on his laptop once again.
"Klank! I didn't think you were coming!"
"I'm here bud. Who you talking to?"
"Sammy! Guess what? He says he can meet us and come with us!"
"Come with us? Oh, no no no. It's one thing sneaking you off, but there's no way I can take your friend with us."
"You said we can do whatever we want, Klank!"
"Here's what I can do-- I'll pick him up and take you guys to get something to eat. Afterward though, I'll have to take him home. Then, we go on our adventure."
''Awesome! I have his address! Let's go!"
Sneaking Timmy out of the hospital was no problem. The moment he stepped into the car, he fell asleep in the passenger seat. Seeing as how we had 2 hours to drive to get to his online-friend, Sammy's house, I let him be.
I turned off my lights as I pulled into the driveway, checking the address on the mailbox.
"Yep, right address."
I rolled down my window, in hopes of hearing something. Silence. He told Timmy he'd be waiting in the driveway. Maybe his parents caught him. As a thousand thoughts rushed through my head, a sound that would change everything echoed beside my head.
Click.
"Don't move or I'll fucking kill you, you got that?"
I kept my hands gripped to the steering wheel. "What do you want?"
"I don't want you. I just want the boy."
Sammy didn't exist. Timmy had been talking to a pedophile on his computer the whole time.
"I'm sorry, you can't have him.", I said, thinking that would actually work.
"Fine, both of you out. Now."
I glanced over into the passenger seat. Timmy was awake but didn't make a noise. His eyes wide with fear just stared at the man. I stepped out of the car.
"Please don't hurt the--"
"SHUTUP!" were the last words I heard as he slammed the gun against the side of my head.
I awoke sitting upright in a chair, my hands tied behind my back. I looked around, then noticed a figure sitting in front of me, several feet away. He had grey shaggy hair and a long beard. He donned a white t-shirt and black pants.
"Well, well. Look what we've got here. Dale Flemmings! I never thought I'd catch me a washed up celebrity. Whatchu been up to all these years?"
"WHERE'S TIMMY?!?", was all I could get out as I struggled to rise from the chair. My struggle was useless.
"Oh, don't worry about him. He's in good hands."
"I want to see him!!"
The man rose from his chair and started pacing back and forth. "I never knew you had a boy."
"He's not mine!"
"Oh, well then, having you here won't do me any good, WILL IT?!"
"What exactly are your plans? I swear to God, if you touch him in any way--"
"Whoa, whoa whoa. Back up there, buddy. I only pretended to be some kid online in hopes of meeting Timmy, holding him ransom for money, then letting him go once I got the money. I might be a psycho, but I'm not a little boy toucher!"
"You think you can do this without getting away with it?!"
The man walked over to the only door within the vicinity, opened it and walked in. He returned carrying a chair with Timmy in it. Timmy was tied up just as I was, except he had tape over his mouth. His screams of fear could still be heard from behind the tape. His eyes were red from obvious hours of crying. The man sat Timmy down opposite of me, his chair facing me.
Timmy stared at me, with his eyes he was apologizing for getting me into this mess.
"Tell me", said the man, "who is this boy's parents?"
"You should know", I snapped back, "you were his only best friend."
"DON'T GET SMART WITH ME!", he jumped in front of me-- inches from my face.
"He doesn't have any parents. They died a few years back."
"WHAT?! This little bastard lied to me?!"
The man walked over to Timmy with the gun in hand, and pointed it at the young boy's head.
"Don't!!", I cried. "He's sick!"
The man looked at me. "Sick?"
"Yes! Sick! He needs a kidney but he's not going to get one in time. He only has two months to live! Don't! For God's sake, kill me! Not him!"
He pulled the gun from Timmy's head and tramped to the only room in the house, slamming it behind him. He was in there for hours as I struggled to get free, to no avail.
He returned from the room to see Timmy and I in the same positions we were before he went in there.
"Here's my dilemma", he said. "I've got a washed up Hollywood actor whom I obviously can't hold ransom. I've got a kid with no parents. What does this do for me? Absolutely nothing. There's only one option I have."
He walked to the kitchen and returned with a butcher knife. "There's only one option I have", he repeated.
"No!", I yelled as he walked over toward Timmy, knife raised.
He eyed me as he pulled the tape off of Timmy's mouth. Timmy stayed silent.
"One option", he repeated.
"No! Don't! Take me!".
My cries went unanswered as he raised the knife and--
started cutting Timmy loose.
The man walked over to me and did the same to me, then dropped the knife on the ground. "Get out of here."
I didn't say a word, I grabbed Timmy from his chair and quickly walked out the front door. I quickly tossed him into the passenger seat of the car, jumped in, and peeled out of the driveway. I drove for the rest of the night.
I've still got two months to make this kid happy.
- VS -
Entry 2
Stand and deliver me from evil temptations.Stand and deliver me from corrupt power.
Stand and deliver me from my heart's broken desires.
At two in the morning I'd usually be asleep in my bed, without worries, without troubles. My dreams would bring me comfort and solace. But tonight I'm sitting in my recliner staring at a candle that's been lit for hours. Its flame jumps every which-way causing the shadows to dance from the floor to the ceiling to the wall.
After staring at the candle for over an hour I start to zone out. The flicker of the flame begins to hypnotize me to a state of falsehood and disbelief. For a second I think I see my friend Benny in a white lab-coat on the other side of the room, but after a couple of blinks he is replaced by bouncing shadows.
I open the in-table drawer and take out another candle in which to lull me to sleep. The other one is nearly melted down to the stain finish of the table; it's only protection is the melted wax that slid down the candle and blotted up around the bottom.
I place the new candle on the table and use the old one to light it. The wax dribbles off the top lip of the candle and I place my hand underneath to keep it from ruining the table. After the new one is lit I blow the old one out and wait for the wax to dry in my hand.
Once the wax is dry I place my hand over the flame and slowly let it melt the wax. As a child my friends and I used to place this game all the time. The idea is to see who can get all the wax to melt off of their hand in one try. If you succeed then you are the winner.
By now the wax has completely melted off my hand, and the heat of the fire is starting to burn my hand. If you listen closely, you can hear it start to sizzle.
If no one succeeds in melting the wax off then you see who can do it in the least amount of tries. If you play this game enough you start to build up a higher pain threshold. Eventually you start mentally conditioning yourself not to think about it, and it becomes a whole lot easier to win.
My palm is blackened from the smoke and the flesh is pulling away from itself and curing back towards my fingers. All the skin on my palm is nearly gone and the fire is starting to cauterize the moist, bloody flesh.
If you do this long enough then your skin will adjust and start to build a callus on your palm. If you keep picking at the callus or burning it off then it will never heal. Having a callus guarantees you another thirty seconds of time to melt the wax, but if you've got a callus then that probably means your way past that stage.
The pain is unbearable and I slam my hand onto the candle, spraying melted wax and blistered skin everywhere. The smell of scalded flesh seeps into my nose and I think I'm going to get sick.
I look up and wonder what time it is and if I'll wake up in time for work tomorrow.
Sit and deliver me from unbearable pain.
Sit and deliver me from undeniable misery.
Sit and deliver me from cold, tired nothingness.
I work for the United States Post Office. It's not really a job I enjoy, but I've certainly had worse ways of making money. At least working for the USPS allows me the chance to make a difference to others.
When I woke up this morning I wanted to gnash my teeth until every single one of them shattered like glass. I had this terrible pain in my gum right above my left canine tooth. It's not something that is painful every once in a while, but more like a throbbing pain. With each beat of my heart, the blood pulsates through my veins and right up to my mouth; the pain is excruciating.
I clench my teeth the entire way to work and walk with my head down, ignoring everyone else. I get to work and Marina says, hi. I look up at her through my eyebrows and force a smile. I look at the schedule and thank nobody that I'm not working the desk today, and that I'll be in the back sorting packages and mail for seven hours.
I start at Box # 04 and find the mail for Mr. Stephons and put it in his slot. I notice a postcard in the pile so I take it back out and read it. His daughter, Florace, won't shut up about how big the buildings are in New York and how everyone is always yelling and how the construction is so loud that it wakes her up every morning.
And how good the pizza is and how cloudy the city is even when it's sunny out and how the word fuck is used so often it's practically a greeting and how Middle Eastern taxi drivers are the best navigators. Then she asks if they developed On-Star.
I take out my pen and write P.S. under Florace's jerk-off signature. I hit the back of the pen against the wall to extend the ball-point tip and write, I met this cute Asian delivery girl named Kim and I think we're in love. Please don't tell mom.
Tomorrow I'll check the obituary for Mr. Stephons of 218 Dead Drive.
I place the postcard back into Box # 04 and look down at the box I'd been sitting on. On every side in big black stencil print it says, Fragile. I kick it around until I see which side is supposed to be up, then I flip it upside down and grab the box-cutters from the counter.
I slide them down the flaps and open the box. Inside is a porcelain doll dressed like a hillbilly farmer. The price tag reads a number with three digits and I wonder who would pay so much for such a useless item. Even if it is a collector's edition it wouldn't be worth anything until after the owner died.
I use the box-cutters to break the nose off, and reseal the box, pushing it up towards the front desk where Marina is smiling like a mental patient.
At lunch time I sit and think of a way to get out of work early. I'm already here so I can't go home sick, although I could use my pulsating gum as an excuse. I run my tongue over the area and it feels like there is a marble shoved in between the bone and my gum.
I start to wonder if there is an empty box somewhere so I can seal myself in it and have them mail me to my house. But Marina was working here when I did it last year so it probably wouldn't work out.
Too bad I forgot to bring some flour so I could say we've had another anthrax scare. If they find out it was me I'd be fired, though. I got lucky last time and authorities claimed it was just a false alarm.
It looks like my only hope is to get some work done and then I can leave an hour early or so. I got all the packages moved in and all the mail sorted so Marina let me off work. I looked up at the clock and saw that I could meet Benny in the parking lot by the time I got there.
Benny works as a janitor for Hinesburg Elementary School, keeping the family tradition alive. He claims that it's actually not a bad job, but the only side-affect is that he can't eat oatmeal any more. I suppose after scooping dried oats over a seven year olds nearly digested lunch three or four times a week would make oatmeal seem as appetizing as shit.
On my way over to the school parking lot I can't help thinking about the throbbing pain in my mouth. I try to mask it out but it's become almost intolerable. I clench and unclench my jaw in an attempt to distract me, but it's no use.
I see Benny unlocking his car and he notices me walking towards him and motions for me to get in. He asks if I want to go back to my place to grab a beer and I say sure. When we get there Benny tells me about how at work today an eight year old girl fell off the merry-go-round and broke her nose and dislocated her shoulder. I asked him what he did to clean up the blood and he told me he just covered it with oatmeal.
Oatmeal must be the world's cheapest cover-up. No expensive surgery or make-up or clothing. Just a simple sprinkle of oatmeal will do the trick.
Benny notices that I'm straining to keep my composure and asks me what's wrong. I tell him about how I woke up this morning with a throbbing pain in my mouth. He asks me if he can take a look and I pry my mouth open for him to take a gander inside. He turns on the kitchen light and peers inside.
Go see a doctor, he tells me. I ask him why and he tells me to take a look for myself, so I go into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Right above my tooth is a large red bump about the size of a peanut. I go to poke it with my finger and my knees buckle because of the pain. I go back to the kitchen and tell Benny I'm going to sleep it off and make an appointment tomorrow.
Benny tells me to meet him tomorrow after work and I tell him I will, then he leaves. I change clothes and flop onto my bed trying to ignore the thumping pain and go to sleep.
Kneel and deliver me from mind numbing pain.
Kneel and deliver me from an unworthy life.
Kneel and deliver me from Benny's friendship.
I wake up to a chair falling in the kitchen and the sound of dishes braking. I lay in bed staring up at the ceiling wondering who's in my apartment, if anyone, and if I should actually get up to do something about it. A close my eyes for a couple seconds and when I re-open them Benny's face is no more then four inches from mine.
Benny, what're you doing here? Benny smiles and says, I'm here for emergency surgery. I sit up in bed and look out the door into the living room and see a bunch of medical supplies lying on the floor. Before I can object Benny grabs me by the arm and drags me into the living room and places me in the recliner. He gets everything set up and takes a needle out and stabs me in the neck with it.
Uhh, Benny, what is this? Are you crazy? I ask. Benny tells me to just relax and that everything will be fine. Where he got all of these supplies I have no idea. He probably got them from his janitor's closet. I bet he's got everything in that closet.
By now Benny has all the instruments set up and just like last night when I thought I saw him wearing a white lab-coat he's wearing one tonight. He inserts a needle into my arm and takes out two pints of blood then hooks up an IV transfusion.
He takes out another needle and tells me that there is Novocain inside of it and it will numb my mouth and then injects it right next to the swollen infection in my mouth. He's getting his utensils set up while waiting for my face to lose all feeling.
Benny asks how everything is coming along and I mumble something about snap-dragons and marigolds. I don't know what he injected into my neck but apparently it was more than just an average sedative. The ceiling is starting to shape shift and is morphing into different shades of gray.
There is a light set up right above me at just the right angle so I can't see hardly anything. I see that Benny picks up a scalpel and when he starts moving towards my mouth the light blinds me but I struggle to see what's going on.
He makes the first incision and I don't notice a thing until he grabs the suction tube and I see an ounce of blood slick back into the tube and line the clear plastic with a wall of red. I'm struggling to keep my composure, gripping my pant-legs with my hands and squeezing them as hard as I can.
Benny grabs what looks like a wrench and a drill press and continues his work. I don't remember Benny ever going to college but if he did he must've got his M.D. along with a Ph.D in mechanics.
He's methodically moving in and out of my mouth and every time he drills into my upper jaw I keep thinking my skull is going to split because of the pain.
Crouch and deliver me from this unwanted life.
Crouch and deliver me from waking up the tomorrow.
Crouch and deliver me from these insane shadow monsters.
My whole body convulses and I don't care what Benny is doing any longer. I'm looking all around the room and every object is flickering. I glance to my right and realize that Benny never lit a candle, and that something is seriously wrong.
I keep hearing the pitter-patter of rain and something that sounds like cars on a freeway. The flickering now seems like the passing of headlights or streetlights maybe. There is the rhythmic squeaking of windshield wipers.
Lie down and deliver me from life.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can feel the sweat dripping down my face and my entire mouth feels hot, like it's on fire. I open my eyes and Benny's got a ball-peen hammer and a chisel in his hand.
My eyes are bulging and I'm gripping so hard at my pant-legs that my fingernails are cutting into the palms of my hands. I try to swallow and a big clot of blood slithers down my throat and I think I'm going to gargle it back up.
Lie down and deliver me from Benny.
Everything is flashing different colors now and I can hear Benny saying almost there, everything's going to be fine. I keep trying to talk to him but I can't get my mouth to form any words.
I feel like I'm floating now and everything starts to turn white. I can hear the whooshing of people moving and the whir of them talking. I look up and Benny's face is still hovering over me, outlined in white.
He looks like an angel.
I can hear the clinking and clattering of tools and utensils. Benny's face is replaced by a man with mask and a giant pair of rubber hands - one of them holding a small machete or something close to that. I've been picking at my callused hand ever since everything turned white.
Lie down and deliver me from reality.
By now I'm picking at muscle in my hand beneath a sheet of light blue that's covering my body. I hear another ounce and a half of blood get sucked back into a vacuum tube and when I look over and see all of the blood I pass out.
When I wake up I'm in a cold sweat and I can barely keep my eyes open. Benny rushes over and tells me that everything's alright. I ask him what he did and he told me that he came by to check up on me around eight and he could hear me screaming.
Then he kicked in the door and came and took me to the hospital. He says that during the entire drive there I was talking crazy and that I kept slipping in and out of consciousness. But now everything is all over and the surgery was a success.
He tells me that as one of my teeth was growing there was a calcium build-up on the root so it was only a matter of time before it became exposed, and when it did it became infected. So the doctors had to go in and remove the calcium build-up but since it was fused to my tooth they had to remove it all.
I felt the area with my tongue and I could feel the stitches where the doctor had made the incision.
Stand and deliver this pessimistic voice.
Stand and deliver an undying obsession.
Stand and deliver everything I've taking for granted.
Entry 1:
cexshun
comicbookguy
darko
DavyJones
Dirtbird
Disektor
Fabish
godking
humor_me
hyprspacd
iddqd
jack11058
Jack_McCallum
JonnyX
Method
NerfHerder
polyamorousaj
Prodigy
runninginplace
salmonofdoubt
ScoutCJustice
Seralena
Sideburns
sparkle_pink
SPECIALk
Stabkill
stevie_says
thaumaturge
William_Q_Percy
WillZone
xenon
zakalwe
26 eligible votes (32 total) *
Entry 2:
Bigmike
Circe
Coyote
Durae
engine13
FunnyAsCancer
LadyPlural
munkeypants
omnifica
rad1101
ruthless
sexy_biatch
tinactin
tlozoot
wazzawazzayo
WiKi
Yes
14 eligible votes (17 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fabish (user info) at 2004-10-29 04:05:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That's no problem. I didn't take it personally (seemed as if maybe I did...), but when you write in first person the word 'I' does show up a lot, and with good reason. I could have used informal sentences throughout the story more, to add a cohesive layer, but like I said I was trying something new and I failed pretty good at it.
Thanks for the clarification, though - and I admire the fact that you vote even though you know it doesn't count.
Submitted by hyprspacd (user info) at 2004-10-28 13:03:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Heya Fab,
It's not that I didn't like your story. I thought the idea was good. I personally just found it a chore to read. I think maybe it was because I was trying to read all the round 3 posts in one day. After all the reading that style seemed a bit forced and choppy. I did however go back and re-read it and the style fits well with the theme, especially if you were trying to convey a sort of delusional and panicked feel. I guess I just didn't get that the first time through.
My votes don't count anyway. Heh.
Submitted by Fabish (user info) at 2004-10-27 20:41:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hyprspacd,
I'll interchange it with the word 'you' next time. Would that suit your fancy?
I can handle criticism, but often times I do feel the need to respond to it, which doesn't mean throwing excuses around.
I tried a different style and apart from the fact that my story had no real strong plot in which to revolve around I'm not, in the least, surprised that my story wasn't literarily perfect.
I'm sorry you didn't like it, but all I bring to UberMadness is an attempt at different, orginal, and I mean as true to original as I can think of, storylines.
I'm sorry I started every paragraph with the letter 'I' in this response.
I
I guess
I guess it
I guess it does
I guess it does get
I guess it does get sort
I guess it does get sort of
I guess it does get sort of bothersome
I guess it does get sort of bothersome and
I guess it does get sort of bothersome and nerve-racking.
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2004-10-27 19:57:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2004-10-27 19:17:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by tinactin (user info) at 2004-10-27 17:05:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Prodigy (user info) at 2004-10-27 16:57:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2004-10-27 16:35:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2004-10-27 16:18:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2004-10-27 14:34:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by runninginplace (user info) at 2004-10-27 14:26:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2004-10-27 14:13:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by hyprspacd (user info) at 2004-10-27 13:55:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry #2 was almost impossible to read.
No dialog at all and every other paragraph started with the word "I".
GAH
Submitted by godking (user info) at 2004-10-27 13:28:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by thaumaturge (user info) at 2004-10-27 10:45:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by tlozoot (user info) at 2004-10-26 19:35:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Tough, tough.
Submitted by Entry Two Author at 2004-10-26 17:16:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Author One:
1) "Sammy didn't exist. Timmy had been talking to a pedophile on his computer the whole time."
2) Stop yelling at the users who vote for me. Don't fear victory, it's cleanly yours. Let me enjoy watching this by not having to watch you yell at Durae for being retarded.
3) Thanks for yelling at Durae. What a fucking idiot.
Durae:
1) You skipped over the last quarter of Entry One. I'm sure things would have unravelled and you would've noticed that Entry One had nothing to do with a pedophiliac. Remember that Klink is narrating the story, so the big voice is his, not the authors. What you read is what Klink is recalling.
2) Hone your reading comprehension skills. I'd rather get a vote from someone who said "the lesser of two evils" than an idiot vote because you didn't finish Entry One.
3) For the record, I've eaten a live animal every time I read "the lesser of two evils" as a response in an UberMadness competition. Oh, and it makes me want to kill small children after reading that phrase so much. Hell, I want to kill myself for typing it twice in this response. Your vote shouldn't count. MORAN!1!!
Submitted by omnifica (user info) at 2004-10-26 16:58:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2004-10-26 16:46:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
It was a very tough decision.
Submitted by wazzawazzayo (user info) at 2004-10-26 14:33:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Nice work jerk.
Submitted by xenon (user info) at 2004-10-26 12:49:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
not bad
Submitted by Author #1 at 2004-10-26 02:16:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Good job, Durae. Seriously, dude. Great job.
Good job on NOT READING THE POST, YOU IGNORANT FUCK.
I'm not offended, honestly. Many people have responded, quoting how much my entry sucked, blah blah blah. But you make accusations that don't even exist in the story.
I guess everyone else skimmed over the part where my main character FUCKS THE BOY!
Oh wait, that's right. He doesn't. Nor do I hint that he's sexually attracted to him in any way. I recall writing that he's ''attached''. Just because you're attached to a person who's not an adult doesn't mean you want to have sex with them.
Now, I say this-- Seeing as how there's no reference to pedophile in my entry, and you came up with a response saying so, I'd say that you're the sick fuck.
And I'm done.
Cunt.
No offense of course.
Submitted by Durae (user info) at 2004-10-26 00:14:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I am so fucking tired of pedophilia and all of the other twisted bullshit this competition has squeezed out of you scumbags. Get some new inspiration you sick fucks.
No offense of course.
Submitted by ScoutCJustice (user info) at 2004-10-25 20:42:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both did a great job. In the end I've got to go with one. The washed up actor was one of the best characters I've read in this tourny so far. Great job.
Submitted by salmonofdoubt (user info) at 2004-10-25 18:41:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ruthless (user info) at 2004-10-25 17:44:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by engine13 (user info) at 2004-10-25 17:43:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Seralena (user info) at 2004-10-25 17:35:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both good.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2004-10-25 17:23:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Maybe I've got the Monday blahs, but neither of these did anything for me.
I'm voting for #1 because I'm still not sure what the fuck #2 was all about.
Submitted by WiKi (user info) at 2004-10-25 16:34:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2004-10-25 16:32:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Good stuff, both of you.
Submitted by Entry Two Author at 2004-10-25 16:19:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Sorry I couldn't put out fellas.
Looks like it's back to the old wait and review until UberMadness: Third Edition.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2004-10-25 15:31:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2004-10-25 15:29:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
I'm depressed neither one of you worked Adam Ant into their storyline :(
Submitted by humor_me (user info) at 2004-10-25 15:12:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2004-10-25 14:55:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Dirtbird (user info) at 2004-10-25 12:39:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by cexshun (user info) at 2004-10-25 11:38:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 was excellent and I read through it excited to get to the end. When I got there, I was as disappointed as if I had just watched Godfather 3 for the first time. #2 was strange and lacked plot. I still have to vote for #1.
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2004-10-25 11:34:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
this was my "on a whim vote" for today.
Submitted by sexy_biatch (user info) at 2004-10-25 10:32:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by NerfHerder (user info) at 2004-10-25 09:49:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2004-10-25 08:33:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
My fucking brain hurts. #1 actually made my peener shrivel when I got to the end. Blue Balls. It was like the time I had a 3some with my wife and her friend, but they both quit in the middle of the act.
Submitted by WillZone (user info) at 2004-10-25 08:20:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2004-10-25 08:01:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
whiskey tango foxtrot, over? both of these bothered me.
Submitted by DavyJones (user info) at 2004-10-25 04:00:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by SPECIALk (user info) at 2004-10-25 02:42:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Disektor (user info) at 2004-10-25 02:13:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2004-10-25 01:50:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-10-25 01:02:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Fabish (user info) at 2004-10-25 00:12:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story.
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2004-10-25 00:06:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2004-10-25 00:06:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-10-25 00:06:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ow.
My brain coughed.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2004-10-24 23:43:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Entry 1 was good, way too stereotypical at the beginning, but well written. But the ending was so...lack-luster. Different, but...boring.
So 2 gets my vote.
Submitted by Sideburns (user info) at 2004-10-24 23:32:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment