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Folksinging and its Effects on Quantum Physics -Part IV By: Richard Davidson on 11/30/2003; 7:01 PM That boy is on the phone... that boy is on the phone... that boy is on the phone... Bobbys young voice rattled around inside of Dreadful Alberts head as he walked dejectedly away from the McGintys house, and out into the vacuous horrors of suburbia that stretched endlessly in all directions. What boy? Was he speaking of Mark Bowens, the perfect boy? Dreadful Albert was counting on Bowens being out of the picture. Without even knowing what possessed him, he found himself walking towards Third and Maple, and up the sidewalk of a grey, split level with brown shutters, garnished by a generous helping of Kuwati Bushes. Howve you been, Albert? gushed Mrs. Bowens, who Dreadful Albert was certain hated him passionately, as she smiled from the front door, stepping dreamily out onto the porch, like a Calico Cat. Dreadful Albert took a moment to read some of the more perturbing nightmares skating merrily across her brow, laughing at the notion the she believed herself anything less than transparent. Whats funny? asked Mrs. Bowens, who wondered what this horrible boy wanted with her more than perfect son. You know whats funny? asked Dreadful Albert, as his smile turned into a leer. No, what? asked a perplexed and bored Mrs. Bowens. Me neither, said Dreadful Albert, is Mark home? Aha! thought Mrs. Bowens carefully, now well get to the bottom of this! They wouldnt, though, as Dreadful Albert himself didnt even know what he was doing here. Dre..., ah, Al? said Mark Bowens, poking his head around the corner from out of the kitchen. It was Mark and his surly jock friends who had saddled Dreadful Albert with his dreadful nickname back in the third grade, and it had stuck like a bedsore to a diseased politician ever since. Mark looked very upset, and it occurred to Dreadful Albert that he had, most likely, been crying. What a wonderful day in the world, when a guy like Mark Bowens is crying, Dreadful Albert thought to himself quietly, its like Ive won the lottery, or something. Dreadful Albert didnt know it, but in his pocket, there was a slightly wadded up lottery ticket that was exactly one number off from the prizewinning ticket cashed in exactly 17 seconds later in a small convenience store in Harloton, bringing one Debra Fischer $3,145,297.83 after taxes. He would never find out, nor would anyone else. What can I do for you, Al? asked Mark, convincingly. I didnt come here so you could do something for me, said Dreadful Albert, smiling just a little too much, why dont you grab a football, and meet me out back? Mark was puzzled. Dreadful Albert had the football skills of a North Asian Sea Urchin, and almost always got hurt. Why would he want to play catch with the schools star quarterback? Go deep, said Dreadful Albert, lobbing the ball towards the chain link fence Mark crashed painfully into, in his attempt to stop the ball from smashing through his neighbors window. The ball thudded harmlessly off the flowerbox below, only rattling some daffodils. Mark opened the gate, and retrieved the ball. Shes seeing someone else, you know, lamented Mark, as he threw a high one, that Dreadful Albert had little chance of getting under. Who? asked Dreadful Albert in mock innocence, tripping over a lawn chair, and banging his head into a concrete birdbath. Oooh, that had to hurt, sympathized Mark, his face feeling a bit better. I dont know who he is, said Mark, sitting down on the ground next to Dreadful Albert, I only know that he says things to her, things I couldnt possibly understand, and that she doesnt want to see me anymore. Dreadful Albert was reeling. This wasnt the way it was supposed to go at all. Hed seen a chance, and now the door was closing, and he hadnt even been smart enough to stick his foot in there. Do you know what I think? Dreadful Albert asked a forlorn Mark. No, what? asked Mark, hopefully. I think youre screwed, bud, said Dreadful Albert, patting Mark on the shoulder as he got up, and strode off, into the gathering twilight.
RE: Folksinging and its Effects on Quantum Physics -Part IV By: Ben C on 12/4/2003; 11:08 AM I'm actually quite interested in this one, Richard, your second story of the decade. I'm gonna keep reading and let you know what I like/hate about it after I've read a little more. Keep it going, Ben
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