Fan

The Fan

The phone rang obnoxiously. He really wasn’t in the mood to pick it up. He was comfortable being wedged in a sitting position, between the dresser and the door, under a lamp. He woulda told XR-86 not to get it if it wasn’t its job. The call was put through automatically to the receivers in the warehouse’s rooms. He rigged it that way. He just sat there as RC-18 came over, it’s wheels making a whirring noise, even on the ancient, ugly, blue rug. XR-86’s mechanical voice box was heard over the speaker fixed to RC-18, “Sir, you have a call.”
“I thought I told you I wasn’t accepting any calls today!”
“I know, but it’s Negaduck,”
He sighed exasperatedly. “Alright, patch him through,”
*Click* “Didn’t you get Liquy’s call, you Knob!!??”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Your response was less than acceptable.”
“So? I told him to tell you to fu-” he was cut off.
“I KNOW what you told him to tell me and you outta thank me for not coming over there right now to KILL you!!!”
“Ha!! Double HA!! You know very well, as everyone else does that it’s suicide to come over here!!”
“Ahem….”
“Well, in any case, I’m way to busy to come over anyhoo!!”
“Wha? I hear a bird, a stereo and live piano music!! Where the hell are you!!??”
“Never you mind! ‘Sides, there is no bird!” Sure enough as soon as the music switched over to another song, the live bird stopped singing, as he always did.
“And you’re the poorest lier in the world.”
“And you’re only the second best villain. Who cares??!!”
“You…!!!!” He heard no more because he hung up on his boss and went back to chillin’ out.

*************************************************************

In an old werhouse full of old toys: stuffed, wind up, pull sting, etc. two guards contemplate on how to get it all outta there, since the business that made these was out of business and had been for years and years. The warehouse was needed to house more newer products.
“What are we gonna do with all o’ dees??!!”
“Beats me! Y’ know that town way out there always requesting more o’ these?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, that’s give ‘em to ‘em!”
“Sounds good to me. And these letters?”
“Eh. Maybe we outta send them to him?”
“Where is he anyway?”
“Beats me. Last time I heard o’ him he broke outta jail.”
“Ah,”

*************************************************************

“Mornin’ Mr. Thommasonn!”
“Marnin’ Mz. Becky”
“Anythin’ new?”
“Nope, not fer quite a while. You know I’d tell ya if der was! I’ll call ya when there is!”
“Thank ya Mr. Thommasonn!” She leaves the toy-store and heads across the dusty dirt street of Main to the parlor. “Hey Beckers! Nottun new from d’ city?”
“Nope, not yet!”
“Y’ know how long it takes anything to get here??!”
“No, how long?”
“Oh, like…eternity! Fer Christ sake, we’re out in da sticks, here!”
“Oh Dorris! You wise crack!”
“You still writin’ him letters?”
“You bet! I write him ideas and likes n dislikes n everything!”
“You and he are practically pen pals!”
“I really hope to meet him one day,”
“You’ve been hoping since you were a baby! C’mon, he’s gotta be twice our age by now!”
“I don’t care! I still wanna meet him! The man’s a genius! Let him work!”
“Eh! If you say so!”
The elderly lady sitting there getting her curlers dried said in her shaky voice, “Don’t burst her bubble Dorris! I’d like to meet him more than any of you!”
Becky responded, “Oh Edith! You too??!”
“Hell yea!”
All of a sudden there’s a roar as the engine from a delivery truck stopping on the other side of the street. Becky and Dorris turn to the large window front and see it park in front of the toy store! Becky burst out of there and ran up to the truck, avoiding the horse and buggy driving on the street. “Mister, mister!!” she called to the truck driver.
“Yeah?” he said in a true blue city accent.
“Are these Quackerjack toys??!!”
“Yep. The last of it,”
“Wh, wha??!! ‘last of it’??!!” she said weerily.
“Yeah, didn’t you know that ever since video games and Whiffle Boy came out, he’s been outta business?”
“N, No!”
“Yeah, some like, almost ten years now!”
“WHAT??!!”
“Oh. You a fan? Er something?”
“Like, da biggest!!!”
“Well, you can visit your god in the state penitentiary up in St. Canard, if you like. But be aware, he’d just as soon slit yer throat!”
She snatched at her neck at that comment and stared at the driver wide-eyed and shocked. How could this happen??!! He was such a kind man who made toys for kids! How can he be in the penitentiary near St. Canard??!! This was horrible! It must be a mistake!! He’s probably misunderstood! His intentions were to teach kids about life and…and…and now he was a bad guy??!! NO!! Not Quackerjack!! She wasn’t sure what to do now, either run to cry with Dorris or go to see what was left of Quackerjack Toy’s stock.

There was a town meeting about Quackerjack that evening, the truck driver present as witness. Mayor Chris “Jacks” Phenton spoke, “People, this is a tradegy that has befallen our proud and stable town!! Our very own savior is in dire times!! I know each and everyone of us, excluding maybe the city stranger, have been raised on Quackerjack Toy’s products!! It saved us from the devil’s television and the crackin radio!! We’re the smartest town out here in da sticks’s and we all know it!! Ol’ Pennington’s boy went to Havard because of Quackerjack!!!”
The mayor continued and the deliveryman shook his head in embarrassment as this was purely insane. The whole blasted town was insane, as was their so-called “savior”.
The mayor continued, “Becky Beaky,” She focused all her attention on her friend and leader. “Will you go to St. Canard with the truck driver to evaluate the situation and see what you can do to fix the problem, alright?”
“You bet ‘Jacks’!” And with that she went to pack.

The next morning she and the driver set out toward the far-off city.

“Thank you for the ride. Do you know where Quackerjack might be?” Becky asked Michael as he paid for the day’s edition of the Feather Quill. He showed her the front headlines: Quackerjack Quakes Quarry. She gasped and thought it odd how everyone else reading the paper thought nothing of this poor duck’s ailment! She ran to the bad part of town, hoping that she’d meet up with him as he settled down for the night, as Michael had told her.

The streets were filthy and dark, all the streetlamp’s bulbs removed. She hoped that she wouldn’t meet up with any of the inhabitants of this brick and concrete jungle except for poor ol’ Quackerjack. She’d searched every street and finally ended up at the shorefront on this side of town, and there, down the road were the docks, decaying and dangerous. Warehouses were there too. She’d have to check down there as well. Becky mustered up enough courage to go down there to scope the place out.
She got lucky…

His little mechanical boppers were all about, amusing him even as he was working. This would be his newest and bestest toy ever!! He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it earlier. Megs actually had given him the idea when he, by accident, climbed up onto the top of the lighthouse and waited for it to be struck by lightening! Silly rat. Quackerjack chuckled at the memory.
All of a sudden there came Al-2560 with his warning, flashing blue light. There was an intruder. He thought about whether he should let the unwanted guest get himself killed coming in, or should he save him and torture him later with his toys. Well, he does have a whole line up in store for his victims!! He’ll save the fool first. He smacked the button on the robot’s “head” and then a scream of fright was heard as the intruder was hefted into the air by the net. A…girl’s scream! He ran to see if this was true, or if it was just a sissy boy.
Sure as hellfire…it was a girl. “What in hell are you doing here?!”
“Q, Quackerjack! I…I came to see you!”
“Me? Lil’ ol’ me? Why?”
“I heard that you went out of business! What happened??!”
“Huh! You from a hic town, er what? I’ve been long out of the toy business for nearly half a decade!!”
“I’m from Loisville,” She extended her hand in a handshake. He took it, but pulled back to let her go, cruely. She was already hanging upside down, precariously, the swinging and turning just made her wanna hurl. He laughed at her misfortune.
“Quackerjack, I don’t understand! Why are you doing this? I thought you liked people!”
“HA!! Not since they all flocked to Whiffle Boy!! Bastard took all my customers and life!!!”
“Not where I’m from!!”
“What?!”
“My town flourishes on your toys! We don’t have tv’s or radios! We all play with your games, your toys!!”
“You people need lives!!”
“Quackerjack! I’m serious! Most of the kids that grow up in our town go to colleges like Harvard or William and Marry!! Cornell and all those high, prestigious schools!! They grow up to be geniuses and scientists and laywers!!”
“Huh! I always knew my toys were the best!!”
“Please, may I come down now?”
“Well…. Ok!” he cruely cut her down and she landed hard on the concrete floor.
“Oh, sir, it really is a pleasure meeting you!! Everyone in Loisville has or is growing up on your toys. Our mayor “Jacks” Phenton, old Miss Edith “Bunker Boys” Bently! Come on! The woman’s a grandmother and she loves you stuff!”
“Huh! Really? You mean it?”
“Truly I do!! Honestly!”
“Wow. And I thought people like you and your town were all converted or dead.”
“Will you please come home with me? Will you continue your legacy in my home town?”
“We-ell….no!”
“What?! Why not??! We all love you there!”
“I have other loves now! Villainy! Being down right mean and cruel!! Stealing what I want and no one can stop me!!”
“But Quackerjack, you used to be such a nice, caring duck. Why don’t you care anymore?”
“Why care when I have everything I want?!” He hoped up onto his thrown of stuffed animals
“Why don’t you do what you love? Making people happy by sharing your toys with them, instead of hurting people with them and keeping them for yourself? You can live in Loisville with me!”
“Nope, it’s the city life for me, country bumpkin!”
Tears were coming to Becky’s eyes as her hero since childhood turned out to be the meanest man in the world. Her dreams were shattered and her hopes dashed. She felt like throwing away everything in her house that he made, jipped out on her passions. “Haven’t you even gotten my letters?”
“Letters? What letters?! I don’t get mail! Well, maybe except for my Villain’s Vouge magazine…”
“I’ve been writing you ever since I could!! Once upon a time I used to get responces! What happened?!”
“I used to get fan mail from all around the world.” he shrugged. “But I haven’t been getting any since Wiffle Butt came out!!”
“Quackerjack, I’ve kept up my end and even a week ago I mailed you a letter!”
“Well I haven’t been getting them! Maybe they mailed them to my prison cell instead!”
She said quietly, “No,”