Transference (955 hits)
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Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2005-07-19 02:40:05 EDT
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Entry 1
Transference Melt-Downs. Extreme forms of transference can turn into a full-blown obsession if it is not dealt with. Transference "meltdowns" can result in accidents, dangerous choices, nightmares, fantasies, stalking someone, psychotic reactions and sometimes violence. -- Michael G. Conner, Psy.DClaire reached her arms into the pink halter top and pulled it over her head. She looked in the mirror just in time to see the bead of sweat trickle down her temple; the heat wave had gotten out of control and for the last week she'd been limited to wearing halter tops with spaghetti straps and skirts all week. It wasn't bad for going out in, but she hated babysitting in these kinds of clothes. The middle-aged dads always seemed to love getting a peak at the budding teenagers bosom, and meeting one for the first time like this was no exception. That, and she was on her period so nothing made her feel more disgusting than looking at herself all bloated in these skimpy clothes.
"Alright Mom, I'm headed over to the Dawson's, I think they said I'll be home around one or two in the morning." Claire shouted into the family room.
Mrs. Beasley walked into the room and smiled. "Okay honey, that sounds fine. Remember to call if you need anything."
"God mom, I'm almost seventeen now, it isn't like I started doing this yesterday."
"I know sweetie, but it isn't like I just want you to know you can call if you need anything." Mrs. Beasley paused for a second and looked back at Claire. "How did you hear about the Dawson's again?"
Claire pulled her long blonde hair into a pony tail. "One of their sons is really good friends with Mark Cooper, and the Coopers recommended me I guess."
Mrs. Beasley nodded. "Well okay, wake me up when you get home."
"Okay, love you." Claire called over her shoulder as she walked out the back door into the garage. She pulled open the door to the old red Bronco and stepped into the behemoth. Claire really wasn't sure if the natural color was red, or if the rust patterns had just eaten away at whatever original color the jeep had been, oh the joys of a great sixteenth birthday present.
The car rumbled and roared across the small town of Delafield, Kansas and she was able to find the house pretty easily. Well lit at the top of a hill on Windrift Drive, the massive house belonged to a newer subdivision, and was one of only three that was fully built. Brand new trees that had brought in from the local tree farm dotted the road all the way up the hill. She pulled into the driveway and then, realizing the narrow drive and the massive jeep she was in, pulled back out and parked on the street.
The Dawson's Bavarian-styled home was gorgeous against the sun that was beginning to lower on the horizon behind it, and Claire was anxious to find out how much she'd be getting paid for babysitting the three little Dawson's for the next seven hours.
"Hi, you must be Claire, I'm Mr. Dawson. Please Come in." The thirty-something man dressed in a tuxedo beckoned for Claire to step inside, and instantly she was amazed at the size of the foyer she'd stepped into. A high arched ceiling greeted her with a silver chandelier, and the brush of air conditioning soothed her aching body. Mr. Dawson had a great big smile of white teeth, and instantly she was warmed by his presence. Mrs. Dawson came in wearing a brilliant diamond necklace and matching earrings, and Claire knew these kids wouldn't be driving a Bronco on their sixteenth birthday.
"Oh honey, why'd you park all the way out on the street?" Mrs. Dawson looked out the front door at the rugged looking jeep, a regular eyesore for this neighborhood.
"Well I just wanted to make sure you guys could get out, I can move it once you leave." Claire blushed.
Mr. Dawson laughed. "Oh I don't think either one of us should drive, a limo is picking us up in fifteen minutes." Mr. Dawson turned to his wife. "You should hurry and finish getting ready. I'll introduce Claire to the kids," Mr. Dawson turned around and walked Claire down into the basement where there was a rather large play room filled with toys. "Kids, I'd like you all to meet Claire, she will be your babysitter tonight. I want you to all be on your best behavior for her."
Three wide-eyed boys stared back at Claire. "Hi guys, how're you."
No one moved. Mr. Dawson stepped forward and walked behind the boys, "This is Tommy, he's four now." Mr. Dawson rested his head on the little blonde haired boy and smiled and then stepped to the next blonde haired boy and looked down. "And this is... wait a second, who is this?"
The boy turned around slapped Mr. Dawson playfully in the leg and then turned back to Claire. "He knows who I am. I'm Jeffrey, and I turned nine last week."
"Oh well happy birthday." Claire smiled.
"And this is Joey and he is seven." The little brown haired boy, slightly pudgier than the other two, groaned.
"Why do we have to have this stupid babysitter, I want Kelly back." Joey folded his arms and glared at Claire.
"Now Joey, we've been through this, we can't have Kelly back here anymore." Mr. Dawson sighed and stepped over the mess of toys in front of him and nodded to Claire to head back up the stairs. "I'm sorry about that, Kelly was our old baby sitter and - well we noticed some jewelry missing a few weeks ago."
"Oh no..."
"Yeah, it was tough, we'd known her for a few years, and she was Joey's first baby sitter." Mr. Dawson pointed to a sheet of paper on the kitchen counter. "Here are all the emergency numbers, our cells, the number for the place we'll be - it's a company fundraiser, so just ask for Matt Dawson if you can't get through on my cell - and then dinner is in the fridge, just warm it up around seven and let them go hog wild. We don't have a television anywhere in our house except for our room. Call us weird, but we don't need our kids seeing that stuff yet, but when you put them to bed at 8:30 feel free to go into our room and watch some TV. We have satellite, so you should be able to find whatever you want. Our bedroom is the last one on the left."
Claire nodded and looked around the kitchen filled with stylish stainless steel Kenmore appliances.
"Any questions?" Mr. Dawson smiled across the counter at Claire.
"No, I think I should be alright."
The doorbell rang and Mr. Dawson walked over to the stairs, "Are you coming, honey?"
The beautiful woman came down the stairs in her light blue dress like a movie star, and the two exited behind the limo driver. Claire watched as the two pulled out of the driveway and exited from sight. She looked at her watch, it was just past 6:30.
"Hey guys, what're you playing?" Claire knelt down next to Tommy. Tommy looked up, wide-eyed, at the stranger kneeling next to him.
"Lego's, idiot. Gosh, what're you blind or something?" Joey called from across the massive pile of Lego's."
Jeffrey shook his head. "We're building stuff. We're going to make a city."
"Oh that sounds fun! Can I help?" Claire smiled and picked up a few Lego's and began to piece them together.
"Sure can, help Tommy, he's just learning how to play with these things." Jeffrey finished the car he was building and rolled it down one of the street pieces. He rolled it back in forth for a minute, doing flips of invisible jumps and squealing it's tires until he grew tired of the little racecar and began making another building.
Seven o'clock came and their dinner consisted of homemade lasagna, apparently made by their cook Rosie. After dinner the boys went downstairs and Claire remembered she had forgotten to move the car. The sun had almost completely set now, and she walked in the dim light out to the jeep and parked it next to the garage.
The boys continued to play for another hour or so, until bedtime arrived. Joey had issues with washing his face and brushing his teeth, and after an unsuccessful wrestling match with Jeffrey, he complied with the orders to clean himself up before bed. The three boys shared a room at the top of the staircase, clowns decorating their bedspreads, walls, and pillows.
Clowns had always irked Claire. Something about their plastic smiles and hidden faces just set her off in a weird way. "Wow, you guys really like clowns, huh?"
"I hate clowns, but I didn't get to pick this, Jeffrey did." Joey jumped into this bed, and Tommy climbed into the bottom bunk below Jeffrey.
"Oh stop, it's not like you could've done any better." Jeffery called over the railing down to Joey.
"I'm telling mom you fought with me, she's going to ground you forever." Joey shouted back.
"Boys! Stop, it's bedtime." Claire walked back to the door and turned around. "Do I leave the door open for you guys?"
"No thank you. We have night-lites." Tommy yawned and Claire's heart melted for the cute little boy in the bottom bunk. The first words he'd spoken all night to her.
"Well okay then, good night you three. I'll be just down the hall in your parents room if you need anything." Claire stepped back and pulled the door shut. She walked down the stairs into the kitchen and fixed herself a snack and walked back up the stairs to the end of the hall.
"Man, that's fucking weird." Officer Daley set his clipboard on the counter. Lieutenant Sparks looked back at him.
"Yeah, you missed a lot over the last two weeks. Good to have you back though, how was Bermuda?" The Lieutenant folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in the old desk chair, his gut nearly popping the buttons on the neatly pressed brown uniform.
"Oh it was great. But man, that's fucked up. Any recent sightings?"
"None, but I agree. Definitely worth telling you about."
Claire flipped on the lights and walked over to the nightstand and set down her chips and soda. She picked up the remote and turned on the television. "Oh god!" Claire cried out, her heart racing. Standing in the corner of the room was a life-size clown statue. Claire chuckled to herself and laid down on the bed. She flipped on MTV and began munching on her chips.
God I hate clowns, Claire thought to herself. And what is it with these people? One television but they have a million dollar home? And clowns all over their house? The pay had better be unbelievable, Joey looked like he was ready to take an axe to my head a few times tonight.
A commercial came on and Claire changed the channel. During the brief quietness while the channel loaded from the satellite, Claire glanced over at the statue in the corner. Is that thing staring at me? Claire thought to herself. Maybe they were freaks in bed and got off on that or something, Claire thought. The channel came on and Claire focused her attention back on the big screen in front of her. This thing is creeping me out too much, Claire thought and walked downstairs into the kitchen.
Claire picked up the telephone and looked at the numbers on the piece of paper. She dialed Mr. Dawson's cell phone and after a few rings a man with slurred speech came across the other line. "Hello?"
"Hi, Mr. Dawson, this is Claire." Claire shouted into the phone, the background noise forced her to hold the phone a few inches away from her ear.
"Who? I'll call you back in a minute. I need to find someplace quiet." And with that, the line went dead.
Claire held the phone in front of her face for a second, her other hand on her hip, wondering what to do. Maybe I could just throw a blanket over it, or turn it around or something, she thought. It's just so creepy looking.
She slowly walked back upstairs and set the cordless phone on the nightstand. Why did they only have one phone in this giant house, she wondered, and continued to munch on her chips. This is absurd, I shouldn't have to ask for permission to move this thing, I'm just going to throw a blanket over it and then when they get home just tell them I don't like clowns or something. Claire looked around the room and saw a trunk next to the television and walked over to it. Opening it, she found some extra throw pillows and a few blankets. She pulled a heavy quilt out of the wooden trunk and let the door to the trunk fall shut. Turning around she began to walk the blanket over to the clown, when the phone rang.
She set the blanket on the bed and walked back to the night stand and picked up the phone. "Hello, Dawson residence, this is Claire." Her mom had always told her to answer the phone like that when she babysat - and she always felt like the biggest goon when she did it.
"Hi Claire, this is Mr. Dawson, sorry about that. It's really loud in the banquet hall. Did everything go alright tonight?" Claire could still hear the muffled sounds of the party in the background.
"Oh hi Mr. Dawson, yes everything went fine. Joey and Jeffrey got into a little scuffle, but they're all in bed now, and I'm up in your room watching TV." Claire cradled the phone between her head and shoulder while she unfolded the blanket and began to walk around the bed.
"So what's up then? Is everything alright?"
"Oh yeah, everything is fine. I'm such a nerd for calling you, but what with it being my first time babysitting, I didn't want to seem rude. Your clown statue in your bedroom is freaking me out, so I just wanted to call and see if I could put a blanket over it or move it or something." Claire hung the blanket and looked back at the hideous statue. It wasn't even smiling - more like a dead stare or something, just staring at the bed. Who were these people?
"Wait, hang on. Did I hear you correctly? Clown statue?" Mr. Dawson sounded puzzled and Claire heard a door slam shut over the phone, the noise of the party grew even dimmer.
"Yes, the one in the corner -"
Mr. Dawson interrupted. "We don't have a clown statue." Another pause, and Claire's heart began to race, goose bumps beginning to prickle her skin.
"Yes you do, I'm looking right at it." Claire took a step back from the statue and looked down at the ground, trying to comprehend what was beginning to transpire.
"Oh my God. Fuck, Claire get the kids, get out of the house. A few weeks ago there were a few sightings in the area of a man dressed in a clown suit staring through windows at people. Get the kids, get out of the house Claire!" Mr. Dawson's voice was now trembling and shouting at the same time. Claire dropped the blanket and looked at the clown as a smile began to creep across his face.
Claire stumbled backwards and tried to scream, but something in her throat caught her voice and threw it back down into the pit of her stomach. The clown reached forward and grabbed her arms. She tried to struggle, but her body wouldn't respond, she felt weak and her arms felt heavy. She couldn't move. A wide smile leapt onto the clown's face, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. He leaned in closer and Claire closed her eyes. Her eyes clenched shut, she could feel his wet breath getting closer to her face. She turned her head to the side and tears began to squeeze out of her closed eyes, and then she felt his wet lips on her cheek.
Instantly her body came back to life and she brought her knee up with as much force as she could, catching the clown in the groin and dropping him to his knees. She pushed him back and turned and ran for the door, slamming it shut behind her.
"Help! Kids! Wake up!" Claire barged in through the door and flipped on the light. "Joey, Jeffrey! Tommy!" Claire was breathing heavily and barely heard the sound of the door open down the hall. She slammed the door shut and the kids groggily came back to life.
"What? What's going on?" Joey rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. A heavy body slammed into the door, and Claire moved back from it for a second. The small lock wasn't going to hold for long, they had to get out of there.
"Joey, come help me push this dresser in front of door. There is someone in the house!" Joey started to cry and Jeffrey hopped down from the top bunk and raced across the room to the big mahogany dresser. Claire got behind it and the two began to push it across the blue carpeting towards the door.
The pounding stopped for a second, and the two shoved it firmly against the door. "Thanks Jeffrey, is there a phone in here or anything?"
Jeffrey shook his head. Just then, an axe pounded it's way through the top of the door. A man laughed haughtily behind the door, and Claire shoved the three boys into the closet.
"Jesus Christ! Lieutenant, that clown man is inside a house with three kids and a babysitter right now." Officer Daley ran into the Lieutenant's office, blowing a few papers off the file cabinet as he rushed in the door.
"Where at?"
"New subdivision, Windrift Drive, guess it's right off of Thames Way."
"Have the sheriffs been dispatched?"
"Yeah, they're on their way, but they were on a burglary call in Dousman."
The Lieutenant sprung from his desk and the two raced out of the station and hopped into the single cruiser. Officer Daley squealed the tires and raced down the street, making a left on Water Road and roared the engine down the hill. Windrift Drive was about a two minute drive from the station.
"Oh God. Oh God. What do you want with us?" Claire screamed above the sound of the chopping wood and crying children.
"I'm here for the party." The clown said innocently as he reached through the heavy door and began to pull the splinters of wood away, trying to pry enough room for him to crawl through.
Claire looked around the room and saw a bat in the corner, next to Joey's bed. Quickly she reached for it and pulled it onto her shoulder. The clown climbed through the small opening and rolled off the dresser, and was instantly met with the bat. It caught him on the shoulder and he groaned with pain. She swung again, and was met with a hand to her face instead.
The clown stretched his arm, and threw the bat into the corner. He walked back to the dresser and picked up the axe from the garage. Smiling, he turned back around and looked down at Claire. Her lip was bleeding now, and she began to whimper as he raised the axe over his head.
The door downstairs barged open, and the clown swung the axe down and connected with Claire's shoulder, digging deep into the flesh and the sound of bones breaking echoed in the room. She cried out in agony and fell on her side. The clown began to wedge the axe out of her mangled flesh when the room was filled with shouting and gunfire.
"Claire? Claire bay, wake up. It's Mom and Dad." Claire's eyes hurt as she tried to wrench them open.
"Where am I?"
"Oh sweetie, you're in the hospital. You were in surgery all night. It's Sunday afternoon." Mr. Beasley leaned onto the bed and smiled. "You were so brave."
"What? What happened?" Claire looked around the room and then at her arm, wrapped in bandages from her chest down to her wrist. "Why is this? What is on my arm?"
"You don't remember?"
"Remember what?" Claire began to cry, confused she looked around the room at the flowers and balloons all around her. "Why am I here?"
Mr. Beasley turned and looked at Mrs. Beasley and then back at his daughter. "Honey, you were in a car accident last night, messed up your arm real bad. They are trying to reattach it, but you are going to have a series of surgeries." Mr. Beasley paused. "The doctors are a lot better at explaining this, I'll go get them."
Mr. Beasley stood up and walked out of the room. Outside Lieutenant Sparks and another man walked up to Mr. Beasley, his hat under his arm. "Mr. Beasley, this is Detective Hernandez, he'll be handling the case."
The two men shook hands. "Mr. Beasley, your daughter was the victim of a horrible tragedy. The man that attacked her, Neil Harmon, is being held in prison right now getting treatment from a team of doctors. Apparently when he was younger his mother made him dress up as a clown and would torment him as he played with dolls she'd make him play with. After eleven years of abuse, she left him in a homeless shelter in Topeka, and just recently he moved back here to Delafield, his original home. Something about being here," Detective Hernandez paused, "Something about being back in his hometown has sent him back to that childhood, only now he's having meltdowns because of the return to his alternate childhood reality."
"Jesus." Mr. Beasley stepped back. "Well, Claire doesn't remember any of it, and I'd prefer we kept it that way."
"That'd be fine, we can leave her out of the papers because she's a minor." Lieutenant Sparks put his arm around Mr. Beasley's shoulder. "John, if you need anything, just call."
"Thanks Lou, I will."
- VS -
Entry 2
The night blossomed. A flower of red and orange unfurled with glorious intensity in my rear-view mirror. No doubt surprised by the violent explosion in its belly, the bland structure of concrete and steel capitulated. Hungry orange tongues licked at the night sky as walls crumbled and fell.Fuck I love explosions.
Now, don't get me wrong - I enjoy black-clad, cloak and dagger, ninja-style stealth and sneakiness as much as the next person, but there is something utterly magical about a small suitcase full of plastic explosive. Magical in the "Watch, as I make this building disappear... Kaboom!" kind of way. Know what I mean?
The flames are lost from view as I turn a corner and stomp on the accelerator. The hellish glow in the distance reminds me of the good old days. Industrial espionage used to be a fantastic career; storming buildings, a gun in each hand. Get in, get the package, torch the place, get back out, make the transfer and get paid. Fun times.
Now the business is being taken over by overblown geeks with fancy laptops humming the Mission Impossible theme. The digital age has sucked most of the enjoyment out of the job. Oh sure, they're still stealing the files - hacking into wireless networks and the like. Nowadays they don't even enter the building, let alone leave behind a satisfying pile of smouldering detritus. Pussies.
I glance over at the package sitting securely in the passenger seat footwell; obtained the old fashioned way - with a bit of sneaking, a trusty combat knife and a fat briefcase full of C4. Tonight's prize doesn't look like much - a squat grey cube roughly a foot each side - but considering the commission on the job, it must be worth a ridiculously large amount of money to the right people. According to my employer it has the potential to revolutionise the entire telecommunications industry. Some newfangled method of transferring data which will no doubt push up my phone bill and provide the phone companies with another list of problems to keep us all on hold about.
Thinking dark thoughts about AT&T, I hunker down a little in my seat and turn up the stereo as the streetlights flash past my car. There is nothing like quite driving on the highway at 2 am. Miles of smooth, flat road laid out beneath you, and no other cars to get in your way - you can just put your foot down and relax.
It's also quite handy to be surrounded by three empty lanes when your rear left tyre blows out at twenty above the speed limit and you fishtail wildly across the road like a running dog trying to slow down on a polished hardwood floor. Swearing under my breath I limp into the breakdown lane. Flats annoy me at the best of times, but my employer has a penchant for absolute punctuality and I know exactly whose pay will be docked for every minute I'm late. Still cursing, I pull the jack and spare tyre from the trunk and set about replacing the blow-out.
I ease off the mangled mess of rubber that once was a serviceable wheel and drop it beside me as a glint catches my eye. There is something small, metallic and shiny stuck to the underbelly of my car. I grab the torch and take a closer look; the object is an inch-thick round silver disc about the size of my thumbnail. It's too small to be an explosive, but just the right size to be some kind of tracking device.
...Fuck.
An unpleasant list runs through my mind:
1. Someone knows who I am and what car I drive
2. They know what I am carrying
3. It's likely that they know what it's worth
4. They want it
5. They know exactly where I am
6. Where I am is sitting next to the highway with a three-wheeled car
7. I'm wasting my time contemplating the shit I am in, rather than replacing the tyre
I pull the device off the undercarriage and stuff it in my pocket before hurriedly putting on the spare. Minutes later I'm speeding down the highway, half watching the road, half examining the device; it's smooth, silver and totally devoid of any markings. Sublime. I don't have the faintest idea who put it there. Couldn't be anyone from my era, we don't use gadgets like this - but then again, we're a dying breed, so that hardly narrows things down. I snort. Whoever they are, they won't be tracking me for long. I pick up an empty Gatorade bottle from underneath my seat and drop the device in - it's going for a fun little ride.
A few miles up the road I find myself on a bridge, below me a stream of inky water is winding its way to the ocean. Blatantly ignoring the "Keep our rivers clean" sign and risking the $55 littering fine, I wind down the window and hurl the bottle off the bridge.
Track that, bitches.
Me: 1 - Laptop Wielding Geeks: 0.
With the tracking device on a relaxing river cruise, I pop the glove box open and reach for my phone to call my employer. If someone else is after his rightfully stolen property, he'll want to know about it - even if it is 3.47 in the morning. The phone rings for a long time before it is answered by a tired and irritable voice.
"If whatever you are about to tell me isn't nicer than the dream I was just having, I'm going to be really pissed off." I hope he was having some kind of nightmare.
"Someone planted a tracking device on my car."
"....What?"
"There was a tracking device stuck to my car."
"Is it still there?"
"I tossed it off a bridge." I hear a sigh on the other end of the phone.
"Okay, okay, so everything else went as planned? Please tell me you have the package, please."
"The package is sitting here next to me."
"Good. Are you being followed?"
"Not that I can see. But I bet that whoever planted the tracker knows exactly what I'm driving, right down to the licence plate. You want me disappear and postpone the transfer?"
"Hell fuck no. The transfer goes ahead. You aren't the only one who loses money when you're running late. Move to Plan B."
I hate being out of the loop.
"Uh, Plan B? I wasn't aware of a Plan B."
"Nobody else was. The whole point of Plan B is that when Plan A has clearly been compromised - as it has now - there is something safe to fall back on. Now listen, about forty minutes drive north of the river there is a truck stop and a Shell station. At the back of the Shell station is a black van with the keys taped behind the front wheel on the driver's side. Take the van and follow the instructions in the envelope on the front seat. You got that?"
"No problem."
"Good. Now I don't want to hear so much as a peep from you until you are handing the package over in three hours' time."
With that, I hear a familiar click as he puts the phone down.
I find the Shell station easily enough, right beside 'Big Rick's Big Rig Truck Stop'. Then again, it's hard to miss a massive gathering of eighteen-wheelers. In a darkened parking lot at the back of the buildings I locate the van, the keys and the instructions.
Plan B appears to be working. Turns out my employer was more organised than I would've ever given him credit for.
Minutes later, I wave a fond goodbye to my car, peel back onto the highway and continue my journey. The transfer is still a two-hour drive away and the van is clearly in need of a service. I hope it survives the trip. It wouldn't be the first time I've had to hitch-hike on a job like this, but I can do without the hassle.
Fortuitously, the van puts in an acceptable, if overly noisy, performance and by daybreak the job is looking like a walk in the park. This is of course until I am about 15 minutes away from my goal, when I notice a convoy of four black SUVs weaving through the traffic behind me - and weaving fast. I've seen convoys like this before, and they rarely have the best intentions in of others mind. Mild paranoia is getting the best of me, so I put my foot down and attempt to lose them. Sadly, the van didn't really offer much competition to the convoy, and before long I am boxed in. Beside me a heavily tinted window slides smoothly down and a pale young man motions for me to follow suit.
It wasn't until he pointed a machine gun at me that I really took much notice.
I wind the window obligingly and I grin like an idiot. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" I call to him, wondering desperately how they managed to find me.
Rather than wax meteorological with me, he replies with a curt "Pull over."
"Pullover? No thanks." I respond. "I prefer jackets." I point at the leather jacket I am wearing.
Completely failing to get the joke he shakes the gun and yells "Pull the fuck over! Now!"
Resigned, I pull over, with SUVs coming to rest around me. The young man, dressed like he stepped off the set of The Matrix, walks over to me.
"There are four sets of crosshairs watching you. Give me the package and you can leave here alive." Four sets? I don't doubt that I could kill him, but the ensuing hail of bullets would be much harder to contend with.
"One condition:" I reply. "You tell me how you managed to find me. I mean, I threw the tracking device in the river and changed cars. How the hell did you know where I was, or what I was driving?"
"Hand it over. Now."
I reach over to the passenger seat footwell and pick up the package. I pause, dejected, and pass it through the window to him. He smiles and begins to walk away. After a few paces, he turns. "We had a bug and tracking device installed in your phone." He pulls a small hand-held computer out of a pocket. "We've been watching you on this all along."
Motherfucker.
Me: 1 - Geeks: 1
What's more, now I'll need to buy a new goddamn phone.
Fuming at being so easily hunted down by some dweebs with a game-boy, I proceed to the transfer point, a decrepit old warehouse, and drive inside. The entire building is empty, except for a single car parked in the middle of the grubby concrete floor. The driver's door opens and my employer climbs out.
"How'd it go?" He calls.
"They took it." I reply.
I smile.
"They took the decoy you gave me."
He opens the back of the van and rummages around before removing the real package. While walking back to his car, he hands me an envelope, which I promptly tear open. Nestled amongst the fat wads of cash is a small remote control.
"What's this for?" I hold up the remote.
"The decoy."
I grin and depress the little red button.
In a local marina, a small boat erupted like Vesuvius, just as it was leaving the jetty. The explosion obliterated the small pleasure craft, raining flaming debris onto the four black SUVs parked nearby. I saw the pictures on the news that night. It looked great.
Me: 2 - Geeks: Dead.
Fuck I love explosions.
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42 eligible votes (44 total) *
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User Reviews
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2005-07-21 18:03:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Go explosions WOO!!
Submitted by crazybutsolazy (user info) at 2005-07-21 11:32:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
whats with the clown stories? Though it was very well written and made me want more of the story when it finished
Submitted by intellismartness (user info) at 2005-07-21 10:50:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Damn, this title wasn't bad, but it was certainly tricky, and both did well with it (even if number 1 needed to explain itself).
Almost flipping a coin stage here, but number 1's unfinished ends just clinched it.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-07-21 09:53:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Katastrofadark (user info) at 2005-07-21 03:30:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Number 1 is creeeepy
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-07-20 21:53:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Deidra (user info) at 2005-07-20 21:38:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by indigogecko (user info) at 2005-07-20 18:42:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
#1, that was more than a little creepy. I may have to develop a fear of clowns now...
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-07-20 18:05:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BuckeyesTHEGAME (user info) at 2005-07-20 15:58:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by OnEdge (user info) at 2005-07-20 15:29:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No contest
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-07-20 15:03:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by notyou (user info) at 2005-07-20 14:22:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-07-19 04:18:33 (#)
Ranking: 0
I did look up the definition. Maybe I'm just an idiot, but I didn't see the relation to an attempted murder story involving a babysitter in a rich house.
--
The clown was dressed up as a clown by his mother, now he dresses up like a clown and kills people. It's in there somewhere.
Submitted by notyou (user info) at 2005-07-20 14:21:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:48:17 (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 was cliche, and not bad, but this:
"Mr. Beasley turned and looked at Mrs. Beasley and then back at his daughter. "Honey, you were in a car accident last night, messed up your arm real bad." bothered the fuck out of me, because she wasn't IN a car accident, she had a fucking manic with an axe chop into her shoulder.
You'd think with a point so prevalent to the story, that wouldn't make it past editing...
----
The next paragraph they are talking about how they don't want her to know what happened... hence telling her she was in a car wreck. I didn't understand why it was in the story, but it wasn't an editing mistake.
Submitted by notyou (user info) at 2005-07-20 14:14:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 1: I hate clowns. I saw it coming, that the clown wasn't a statue, and it still freaked me out. Great story. I just didn't understand the last paragraph. It didn't seem like it needed to be in the story, everything about her forgetting and her parents not wanting her to know.
Entry 2: Against other competition, I definitely would have voted for this. Wish you could both move on.
Two quality stories.
Submitted by Stabkill (user info) at 2005-07-20 13:46:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Soley_Trinity (user info) at 2005-07-20 13:38:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by yermom (user info) at 2005-07-20 13:21:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-07-20 12:25:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 - in the hospital they said she was in a car accident?
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2005-07-20 12:05:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-07-20 11:58:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
no contest
Submitted by sg11588 (user info) at 2005-07-20 11:54:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both really good.
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-07-20 10:23:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This was tough, probably the toughest call in this round.
Submitted by Bellebrown (user info) at 2005-07-20 09:43:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
can I still vote?
Submitted by ess-arr (user info) at 2005-07-20 09:29:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-07-20 07:20:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Viciousriffs (user info) at 2005-07-19 22:54:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-07-19 10:49:52 (#)
Ranking: 1
Nice work on Entry 2.
Would have been close as #1 was well written but seemed to be rushed at the end.
If something is interesting (which this was) don't worry about the length, try reading some Bickerstaff.
-Dave
-----------------------------
Dead-on comment. Bickerstaff is superb.
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-07-19 22:53:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Number 2 by a narrow margin. Both had their flaws and strengths but Entry 1 was kind of silly. A clown statue? For real?
Submitted by Viciousriffs (user info) at 2005-07-19 22:51:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I voted for entry 2, because it reminded me of The Score, which made me think of good old Nortie, which made me grin like Electro with a draidle.
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-07-19 20:21:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was tough. I liked both, and had 2 been paired up with basically any of the other shit in round 1 they would have moved on, but 1 was better. Well done though, both of you.
Submitted by justagirl27 (user info) at 2005-07-19 20:16:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
i really liked #1, but the ending was just too abrupt, i wanted more.
Submitted by BillsSBChamps (user info) at 2005-07-19 19:18:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I LIKE PLOSIONS!!!!!!!!!
Submitted by MandaPanda (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:46:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Slovin (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:40:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:37:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
didn't know my review was going to show up man, sorry....
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:33:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
WARDY!
DO NOT REVEAL YOUR IDENTITY! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE AN ANONYMOUS CONTEST!
HOLY FUCK PEOPLE!
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:30:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Tough Call
Submitted by Stin (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:15:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-07-19 16:08:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't wait to go against Author #2.
Submitted by kimmy02721 (user info) at 2005-07-19 15:31:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
these were both great
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-07-19 15:24:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:54:36 (#)
Ranking: 0
I just got an email telling me that rectal exams usually only take about 4 minutes.
So why do my exams at San Francisco General take 45 minutes and longer?
-------
During these exams, do you feel BOTH of the doctor's hands on your shoulders?
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-07-19 15:22:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-07-19 15:15:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Jesus christ on a stick #1 - fuck you, I'm going to have nightmares now. I don't see what the point of telling her it was a car wreck was though.
#2 was good, shame they were up against each other really
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:56:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
BTW, I don't want to hear any homo jokes about the 'right up my alley' line.
Just because I live in San Francisco doesn't mean everything is homos.
Fuckin homos.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:55:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
What do you mean your doctor doesn't grunt and put a little anesthetic gel in there at the end so you aren't sore from the probe?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:54:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I just got an email telling me that rectal exams usually only take about 4 minutes.
So why do my exams at San Francisco General take 45 minutes and longer?
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:53:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 was like a rectal exam. It was awkward and embarrassing and went on for an umcomfortably long time.
Fortunately, #2 was right up my alley. Thanks, Author #2!
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-07-19 14:46:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
NOW THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!! Both authors deserve to advance, but #1 took the cake. This is great stuff! +2 for both!
Submitted by gamma (user info) at 2005-07-19 12:59:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-07-19 12:56:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2005-07-19 12:23:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
They were both good, except the end of one pissed me off.
Too much explaination about the Clown guy. Especially to the kids dad. Didn't sit right, but good job otherwise.
#2...I love explosions
That is all
Submitted by dodahdave (user info) at 2005-07-19 12:15:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:03:23 (#)
Ranking: 0
you can subtract this vote if it doesn't count, i just want to know the score of my own post.
-----------------
Dude. The rules were plainly stated: you can be DQ'd for stating things like this while voting is still open. I realize that you didn't identify which story was yours, so you're probably okay, but watch it in the future if you move on.
Submitted by dodahdave (user info) at 2005-07-19 12:12:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
I just liked #2 better.
I will say this, though: the image of the clown 'statue' grinning and moving gave me goosebumps.
Thanks a LOT for the nightmares, author #2.
Submitted by RandomJose (user info) at 2005-07-19 11:52:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Personal Preference
Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2005-07-19 11:15:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by screamfeeder (user info) at 2005-07-19 11:01:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-07-19 10:49:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Nice work on Entry 2.
Would have been close as #1 was well written but seemed to be rushed at the end.
If something is interesting (which this was) don't worry about the length, try reading some Bickerstaff.
-Dave
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2005-07-19 10:32:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
No comment.
Submitted by WildcatMcGee (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:53:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by nitty34 (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:49:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:47:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:45:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:41:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
entry one was pretty good, but it had a crappy ending
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:31:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:11:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:10:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
damnit wardy, youre not supposed to tell that you did a post.
idk. if you look on the msg board, you already voted.
meh, we will see
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-07-19 09:08:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:49:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:03:23 (#)
Ranking: 0
you can subtract this vote if it doesn't count, i just want to know the score of my own post.
--------------------------
Jezus, Wardy...
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:48:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 was cliche, and not bad, but this:
"Mr. Beasley turned and looked at Mrs. Beasley and then back at his daughter. "Honey, you were in a car accident last night, messed up your arm real bad." bothered the fuck out of me, because she wasn't IN a car accident, she had a fucking manic with an axe chop into her shoulder.
You'd think with a point so prevalent to the story, that wouldn't make it past editing...
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:30:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:15:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm voting for 1 because it didn't have a picture.
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2005-07-19 08:13:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Number one, your story drew me in completely. You had me caring about the characters, wondering what was going to happen to them, etc. Then you let me down with possibly the worst ending to a good story that I have ever seen.
However, Number two was well written, but not quite as interesting overall.
Hmmmm....I'm still pissed off over that ending number one. Maybe I'll withhold my vote for a day or two and come back to this.
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-07-19 07:58:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
They were both pretty good.
Submitted by badassmofo (user info) at 2005-07-19 07:38:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy shit, both were good but #1 gave me fucking chills. Unlucky for Author #2 coming against a story like that in Round #1.
Submitted by Natsukau (user info) at 2005-07-19 07:31:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-07-19 04:18:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I did look up the definition. Maybe I'm just an idiot, but I didn't see the relation to an attempted murder story involving a babysitter in a rich house.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-19 04:17:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Man the transformers are awesome.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:55:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I liked both. I'm voting for one because it is corny and scary.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:50:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Well, I've already stated I hate clown stories, plus Author #2's pseudo-James Bond has been a relatively unexplored genre in UM, so you get the vote, #2!
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:43:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Merlina (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:29:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:25:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
sparkle, how about you actually look up the definition of transference.
Submitted by FunnyAsCancer (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:23:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
2 was B+ material, but 1 just creeped me the fuck out.
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:20:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Are creepy clowns a running theme this year?
Submitted by Allyson (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:07:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
sha-zam
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:03:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 2 was fun to read, and it actually had something to do with the title.
Good job.
Submitted by wardy (user info) at 2005-07-19 03:03:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
you can subtract this vote if it doesn't count, i just want to know the score of my own post.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:54:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Impassive-Digressive (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:53:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:50:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I would have taken this title and wrote a story about transformers. THEY ARE ROBOTS IN DISGUISE!
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:49:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by a_little_more_time (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:48:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2005-07-19 02:45:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment