The Road to Madness 3/4 miles

March 13, 2007 at 10:08 am (Stories)

** It has been a while since I wrote anything for my story I started so here is the next portion of it.  For the previous entries click on the category for stories!**
After dark, the P.O.N.D. took on ominous dimensions.  Even more so was the west wing of the institution, but that didn’t stop Lt. Lew from sneaking in.  Something strange was going on here and he was going to get some answers.  It wasn’t long before he got hopelessly lost in the corridors, these halls were worse than a circus mirror maze.  Despite the dust and flickering of the lights, he could sense that someone was nearby.  What he didn’t plan on was a zombie.  Three of them in fact, and before he realized it they were upon him.
One of the strange things he noticed about these zombies was that they didn’t try to kill him.  At least one thing was going in his favor.  He tried fighting back, but the strength that they possessed was too much to break free.  Suddenly he was strapped into a chair.
He sat up, breathing hard.  His hand cradled his head for a moment as he tried to clear the cobwebs.  Turning on the lights didn’t seem to help so he opened the fridge and found himself ingredients for a light breakfast.  The dreams were getting closer together, but so far he always woke up after being strapped into that chair.  The only thing for sure was that the chair was in the room he saw in those 3-d dot drawings.  Something very strange was going on at that institution. . . perhaps he should actually go in and take a closer look at that west wing.

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Connect the Thoughts

November 28, 2006 at 3:01 pm (Stories)

Dr. Wundir was pleasantly suprised with Lt. Lew’s suggestion for making sure that the duck didn’t escape from the P.O.N.D.  It was such a simple idea too, but it had been two weeks now and the duck was still in his holding cell blissfully concentrating on something other then getting away.  Wundir had more free time to catch up on the other cases being treated now and only needed to check on the duck maybe twice a week to make sure he was still there.
In the cell the duck was staring intently at the floor.  Then he’d walk over to another area and stare at the floor again.  Once again he’d move to yet another area of the room and look at the floor there for a bit.  Evidently he saw something he liked and  knelt down with his crayon and connected the one dot to where he left off.  It was now time for him to find the next dot to connect and he started looking at the floor again. . .
Later that night as the duck lay sleeping, two interns quietly snuck into the cell and erased the first section of the line and randomly added a few more dots to the area that the had been wiped clean.  Without disturbing the duck, they snuck back out and locked the door behind them.

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Connected. . .

August 10, 2006 at 3:32 pm (Stories)

It took twenty staff members two hours to finish the room to Lt. Lew’s specifications, but the end result was nothing less than spectacular.  In fact, Doctor Wundir stayed later than usual watching the monitors to see how this plan would work out.
According to the animal control guy, the duck should be coming out of his sedated state, and true to expectations, the duck started stirring as scheduled.  For about a half hour the waterfowl just sat there opening and closing his mouth and blearily looking around at his surroundings.  When the doctor was beginning to worry a little bit, the duck got unsteadily to his feet and waddled over to the table and got some water.   Then the duck whipped his head around as he spied the crayons.  It was then that the duck seemed to notice the little dots all over the room from floor to ceiling.
The good doctor smiled.  Yes, it was working just like Lt. Lew had predicted… the duck was currently looking for the dot that was numbered 1.

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Room E3

May 10, 2006 at 2:51 pm (Stories)

     Lt. Lew didn’t remember the last time he got completely lost, but walking through the halls and various rooms at the P.O.N.D. sure had him turned around and not knowing if he’d ever be able to find his way out again if somehow he were forced to make the attempt. No wonder this was the nut-house, the architecture alone would drive anyone crazy. Whoever put this thing together was probably the first person admited.
     "Why’s this door blocked off?" queried the Lt.
     The doctor looked a little troubled and tried to explain that however odd the layout was in the building, things were three times worse in the west wing. Currently they have lost a total of 3 doctors, 12 patients, a 4 man EMT crew, 2 detectives, and one television reporter with a cameraman in those halls. In fact as far as they knew, only one person has ever successfully escaped the west wing. Unfortunately, all he does these days is drool and color with his crayons… Well, coloring is probably not the best descriptive word to use… scribble is probably a better word but still lacks the proper context.
     To show what he meant he took him to where Charlie resided. Room E3. The first observation that Lew noticed were the numerous sheets of paper strewn about the room. Who he assumed was Charlie was sitting at a small table, a blue crayon in one hand and a trail of spit rolling down the left side of his mouth. Charlie seemed to be totally unaware that he was even there, much less "coloring". The piece of paper he had on top and in contact with the crayon was covered in little dots of varying color. Lt. Lew picked up another piece of paper off the floor and looked at it. It also was covered in multicolored spots. It looked so odd though, he turned the page sideways. Tilted his head.
      The doctor suggested that he unfocus and stare beyond the page. Just like those 3-d illusions, a picture soon jumped out from the page. He dropped the page, but it was too late – the whole room took on a sinister look as the effect of all the paper changed everything. He was no longer in room E3 – he was somewhere else – a menacing place. It seemed there was something just on the edge of his vision that shouldn’t be there. He needed out, he needed to catch his breath, he needed to escape!
He soon found himself back in the hallway and the doctor telling him to just sit down for a little bit.
     "I take it you saw more than just what was on the one page?"
     "Yeah, I saw. . . I don’t know what I saw. It was like an office, but there was something else there."
     "Normally, the most anyone sees is some kind of odd object from whatever paper he’s looking at. Only two people have been able to see the ‘full effect’ as we call it."
     "Only two others? who were they?"
     "You misunderstand. I said only two. You and …"
     "Me and who?"
     "Does the name Mel Phinny ring any bells?"
     "Ah, the kid that decided to pick a fight with a train."
     "He was having strange dreams after the E3 incident… It might not mean anything, but… it seemed he was getting more desperate as the days went by. I should have thought before showing you the room."
      "No, that’s okay – I’ll be fine."
     "If you do have trouble, be sure to let me know though."
     "Speaking of trouble, I may have thought of something to help you with your elusive duck. . ."

the troubling

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. . . News Break . . .

April 21, 2006 at 4:37 pm (Stories)

WDUK radio interrupts this blog for this important update.  This is Drake Waddle with Bill Mallard covering the incident down at the OK sub division.  Earlier in the story reports started coming in about a stand-off with police and shots being fired.  We tried to get Bill to go down on location, but unfortunately the van broke down.  Instead we had to monitor the tv stations to bring you these live reports.  It appears that Pandemonium has broken out at the scene… Luckily an animal control specialist was onhand and got Pandemonium, a 4 year old Rottweiler, back in his yard.
Eye witnesses report that police shot down a rabid waterfowl that was terrorizing the neighborhood and attacked an officer plus the animal control operative.  Meanwhile, owners of green machine are being questioned about their involvment with the deranged duck.  Unfortunately for the owners, Billy and Mandy, the green machine was totalled in the shootout.
Wait a minute.  New developments are.. well… developing as the police captain is questioned about the use of lethal force.  Hey Bill, can you turn that up for our listeners?
". . . force.  We used what we call mercy bullets which are made of a rubber that won’t penetrate the skin while a few of our sharpshooters used bean bag guns.  The duck will be hurting, but he’s far from deceased.  Due to the complicated nature of this capture, we’ve had to make several unprecedented decisions in this capture, including but not limited to transporting the captured to the POND."
There you have it folks, no fatalities involved in this shootout and things are well under control.  This is Drake Waddle and Bill Mallard for WDUK radio sending you back to your regularly scheduled blog. . .  and remember – You heard it here before you read about it in the paper. . .

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Shootout at the OK Subdivision

April 5, 2006 at 4:23 pm (Stories)

It must have looked like a scene from some bizarre movie seeing all those squad cars with their lights flashing surrounding a four block radius as a lone animal control van slowly made it’s way down the street.  In fact, several of the residents had their video cameras out, ready to catch all the excitement and cash in the footage to local news stations.  Inside the van, Walter kept looking around for the deranged waterfowl and wondering why the cops were involved. . .  Perhaps the duck had violated air space or something.  The cop that was accompanying him didn’t say much but rather made a lot of calls on the walkie talkie apraising everyone to their every movement.
Maybe it was because Walter wasn’t exactly expecting to encounter the situation that suddenly materialized in front of him, it could have also been that the whole situation had him too tense.  Whatever the reason, he panicked and swerved the truck into a tree at a speed of 2 mph when the green machine spun around the corner in front of him and headed directly towards the van.
For some strange reason the police officer had neglected to buckle himself in and was now laying slumped against the dashboard.  Evidently, he tried to stand up to point at the duck and hit his head on the ceiling before being thrown towards the window.  The only thing Walter could think at this time was  "THAT was a duck?"
Meanwhile Joseph put down the walkie talkie.  "He’s not responding sir."
The captain sighed, "He must have gotten him…  okay boys, let’s do this the hard way – let’s end it right here."
Every officer was given the order and within the minute everyone was behind the cars with the guns at ready by the time the lone duck came racing towards the blockade.  As the residents made mad dashes to safety (except for Robert – he was always a little weird though) the police opened fire.  A quick powerslide exposed the plastic tires which exploded into little parts.  Shortly afterward the duck fell, and the guns went silent. . .

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The P.O.N.D.

February 27, 2006 at 1:04 pm (Stories)

Doctor Wundir was always running into problems.  If it wasn’t patients, it was the staff.  Heck, if it wasn’t the staff, it was some of the other doctors.  It was bad enough that the facilities were notorious for it’s so-called floor plan, but to have a whole wing cordoned off because it was just too dangerous was beyond him.  Even the builders were unable to produce any schematics for any part of the P.O.N.D.  He had to chuckle at the name of the institute.  The Paragon for the Odd and Neurologically Diverse was somehow fitting.  His most recent problem though centered around the duck.  Yes, a meddlesome waterfowl that thought it was human and would accuse everyone else of being crazy for thinking he was a duck.  Okay, for the fact that the duck could talk was bizarre in and of itself, the eyebrows and teeth were disturbing as well, but there was the matter of driving people crazy when dealing with this particular bird.  They kept him locked up for everyone’s good – well, at least they ATTEMPTED keeping him locked up.  He stared at the "Hello my name is. . ." badge with the words "Ducktor Quack" written in orange crayon.  It amazed him that anyone could fall for something like this.
The intercom buzzed and he answered it.  Great, a Lt. Lew wanted to talk to him about the duck.  Grabbing the keys he went out to give the Lieutenant a quick tour of the place, maybe this guy could help them out.
the at large

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On the Case

February 21, 2006 at 4:24 pm (Stories)

Lt. Lew came to the office to a pile of reports stacked on his chair.  Great, just what he needed:  several cases to work on at one time.  He transferred the folders onto the desk and sat down to see what it was all about.  Taking a sip of lukewarm coffee and opening the top file, he began reading.  It seemed like a routine occurance – someone took off with some property and assaulted a home owner.  It also appeared that the same culprit was creating disturbances in the neighborhood…  Strange, it seemed like this would be more in the jurisdiction of the patrol units.  Ah, he needed to investigate how this guy was escaping from the P.O.N.D, see files SD3320900 – SD3320960 for incident reports.  That explained the stack of other folders.  Local units were currently at the scene as was animal control.  Wait a minute – what did animal control have to do with this?  His instinct kicked in and it told him bad things.  No picture, only an alias for a name. . .  His coffee was gone too.  It was funny how in times of impending complications his coffee was the first to disappear.  He’d have to go to the local inane asylum and question them down there to figure out what was really going on here.  Maybe he could stop off and get some more coffee on the way there.
the renegade

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Race to the Finish

February 14, 2006 at 10:30 am (Stories)

With his gloved hands on the steering wheel he waited for the indication that the race was on.  Tires spinning as he gunned it he saw the other cars take the lead but he wasn’t gonna give up, he’d catch ’em.  They were already slowing down as they came into the first turn.  The smell of exhaust was overpowering as he banked into the turn sharply and sped up to catch the first car.  Just as he passed that racer the next turn was upon him and he slowed down to prevent making contact with the next car.  The straight-a-way was next and he drafted behind them all for the first 3 seconds and was able to pass the next two cars and fit in nicely as the hard right came up.  Slowing down was good, but not good enough as he turned the wheel sharply and applied more power to prevent him from spinning out.  A tap from behind reminded him that he wasn’t that far ahead of those behind him.  Only quick reflexed prevented him from being spun out and he put further distance from the back of the pack in hopes of gaining ground on the next three cars.  He could have passed the next car, but the narrow roadway prevented any passing, so he kept on the bumper of the vehicle in front of him, waiting for a chance to gain ground.  The opportunity came at the next turn and he hit the corner just right and accelerated out of the turn past the other racer putting him in 3rd place.  Two more places to move up was all he needed to win and he could only see second place.  He’d have to take a chance or two in order to gain some ground.  He knew that there was a soft turn coming up so kept the foot on the accelerator and took some air at the top of the upgrade in the road.  Landing back on earth, there wasn’t much time to gain control as the next turn came up so he pulled the e-brake and turned sharply to avoid colliding into the wall.  A gently tap is all he did, but his speed had been greatly hampered as he gained momentum again.  Another straight-a-way came into sight so he went as fast as he could and once again drafted behind 2nd place until he was able to pass him up.  It was now time to find where 1st place was.  Track was starting to get short so he knew that he needed to rely on a little luck.  A quick set of sharp turns didn’t seem to  help him out much, but once he navigated through those he saw his goal in the distance.  The gap was closing rapidly as they navigated through an evil corkscrew turn and the ensuing straight section had them separated by a mere .34 seconds.  The next turn came up and the finish line could be seen up ahead.  Almost evenly matched it was going to be close.  Time seemed to stretch out as he pulled up next to the other vehicle. . . he’d pull ahead by a fraction and then the other racer would pull ahead.  Back and forth they went until they were at the finish line. . .  The fans were going crazy, camera flashes were going off when the duck made it over the finish in 1st place by the narrowest of margins.
Meanwhile. . .     Doggone it Fred, how many times is that crazy duck going to be pedalling that stupid Green Machine up and down the street?  It’s driving me crazy!!
the positioned

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Flight to Freedom

February 1, 2006 at 9:04 pm (Stories)

With a quick dash across the lawn, the assault was on. armed with nothing but a water pistol and a rubberband, silverduck made it across the expanse of green and hunkered behing a small shrub.  Peeking around the edge, he couldn’t detect any evidence that he’d been spotted so he slowly inched his way on his belly towards the tree.  Still secure in the knowledge that he remained unseen, the duck rolled once then twice until he made it to the vehicle.  With a triumpant smile he jumped into the seat and took off in the Green Machine, spinning the tires in the grass and headed off towards the road.  The shouts behind him were too late, but suddenly an obstacle loomed ahead.  Taking a hand off one of the control sticks he aimed the gun and squirted liquified Jell-O at the figure in front of him.  It was enough for a clean getaway and silverduck powerslid onto the sidewalk and headed off towards adventure. . .
Wiping at the spot on his shirt, Larry shook his head as the kids came running up to him.
"Daddy! Daddy!  That duck took the Green Machine again!"
"I swear that duck escapes the P.O.N.D. every week.  I’ll call the asylum again and get it back. . ."
the escaped

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