Round Robin Story

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        TITLE TO COME

        The gates opened, and the long, slick, black limo pulled into the front yard. At 1:00am, not much could be seen between the shadows of the night. The trees swayed with the wind, creaking like crying children, as a dog barked in the distance.

        Arriving at night, when all was quiet, was part of the plan. Returning to the once familiar scene, but in an entirely different set of circumstances. Before, he was completely broke, no money, shamed by the family name, and on the verge of becoming a criminal but now things are different and it is a new day...err night.

        As he walked inside the gate and along the side of the house all the memories came flooding back like an immense waterfall. He sat down in the same spot where he had once talked, laughed and cried..that was before he had hit rock bottom. He heard a noise coming from the forest ahead. He wiped his eyes with disbelief, coming towards him was.......a werewolf!

        Or so he thought...as the entity came closer and closer to the house and where he was standing, he realized that it was John Dough, an old acquaintance of his who has a bad folicle problem. John's eyes met his, then lit up with recognition. They greeted each other with a handshake and a friendly hug.

        He felt a wave of deja-vu engulf him. How many times had he met colleagues in this very spot in the dead of night? That was all behind him now. No longer was he the passive pawn in anyone's game. The weather vane creaked drawing his attention once again to the house.

        The house where he had been born.......the house which has witnessed his shame and downfall. He looks closer at John Dough, noticing for the first time that his friend and colleague was looking rather worn and ragged. "Come with me," he says to his friend; "let us go together up to the house and share a meal." Together, they finish climbing the hill, cross the circular drive, and open the front door. Standing there, almost hidden in the shadows, was...

        Mrs. Dough! What the heck was John's ex-wife doing in this house, he wondered? (he who doesn't have a name - so much for character development!) She came towards him quickly dressed only in lingerie, rather revealing lingerie at that! "I have been waiting for this moment all my life!", she cried out, "Ever since we were in the sixth grade together - I LOVE YOU!!!". Then, she noticed that they were not alone. Coming through the door just behind him was John, her ex-husband. The moment was ruined and she began to weep. She ran from the house and on the way out the door she cried out:

        "You jerk!! You've ruined my life once again!!" .. as she went running off into the shadows of the night. You see, quite a complicated situation had developed since he had last been here. Oh yes things were complex, althought quite simple at the same time. Suddenly he began to feel the same thoughts that he had when he had last been in this very place. Those thoughts which had led him to his despair and pain. He would not let those thoughts cast him into the same horrid hole that they had before. There was an object in his limo that would take care of this situation, but he would have to act fast. He couldnt let the fragile Miss Dough be hurt like she had tonight. But suddenly Mr. Dough did something completely unexpected!

        John started dancing a jig, while merrily humming a little ditty. He didn't know Mr. Dough could dance so well, and he also wondered what he was so happy about. He just stood there with his head spinning like a top at the recent events that were taking place. He didn't know what to do, check to see if insanity had overtaken his friend John, or to run after the woman he loves and console her. As he stood there puzzled wondering what to do, a loud crash came from outside...

        Turning back around in the doorway to look outside, all to be seen was a huge cloud of smoke with red flames rising from the trunk of the limo. As the smoked cleared some, he saw Mrs. Dough standing on the car in the middle of the flames, screaching while rising her arms to the sky. He stood there in shock, while John continued his jig in the background, as he watched the woman fall to her death burning to ashes. Outraged by the scene, he charges toward the limo, giving no thought to personal danger.

        Concentrating solely on retrieving what he had painstakenly guarded... had it been an omen, that feeling that he must keep it in the car with him and not in the trunk with his luggage?

        Oh the agony of it all, all these years he had protected it and guarded it with great care. Now, in just a single evening, it was destoryed and he felt the rush of all those years pent up. He was getting angry, the thought of the loss was more than he wanted to think about. He felt bad about Ms. Dough but that was the end of that. It was the loss of the item in the car that really bothered him. Again anger and frustration came over him, was it going to happen again?

        He looked up at the sky once looking for the star that had once guided him. The star was nowhere in sight. His father had promised him that the star would always guide him especially when he was in trouble. He never had trusted his father, but a tear tinkled from his eye as he remembered his past. He touched his forehead and could feel himself boiling with anger and frustration. What was he going to do? He was sure it was all going to happen, but he couldn't let it. He found himself walking inside once again, all of a sudden his hand with a forcefull push seemed to go towards a cabinet. He couldn't stop it, he wanted to feel in control with his life, he knew what his hand wanted to touch...

        He started fumbling through the cabinet, searching for the object that he so needed. Dumping the cabinet's contents out, drawer by drawer, he began to panic as his need grew stronger and stronger. As he searched through the last drawer in the cabinet, his panic had whipped him up into a frenzy. He thought he would die without the object he so desired. But there! in the very back of the last drawer...there it was!! He tore it out of the cabinet and clutched it closely to him. He wept tears of joy from his eyes as he cradled in his arm...Clyde, the rubber chicken.

        This symbol of his childhood, this one constant companion who had witnessed his shame, his downfall, his struggle and his furtive escape. Oh, how he'd longed for this moment...this reunion. He squared his massive shoulders, feeling power flow through him. He could do it. His power now was tenfold that of the cowering victimised minion he had once been. Devoid now of the pangs of concience that human mind is heir to, he felt a wave of contrition from some deep part of his soul for what he must do. Their pious demeaner was but a facade. He knew the evil that dwelt within them. As the sun rose on the horizon he headed for the basement....the time was at hand.

        When he reached the basement, he walked straight toward the old woodstove that had been down there since his grandmother was a young bride. After checking to see that it would still work, he found an old soup pot and some old furniture to break into kindling for the fire. He took out a flask from his pocket and poured the water from it into the pot and lit the fire.....he slowly picked up the chicken and looked at it one last time before slowly lowering it into the pot.."ah my friend, you have always been here to comfort me and make me laugh; even now, in our final moments..." With that, he puts the lid back on the soup pot and sits quietly nearby as the rubber chicken soup simmers...

        Now that the Rubber Chicken was on the cook, he turned his mind to more serious goings on. The antidote was destroyed in the fire and it would take forever to make a new batch. He was worried, for when these events came to him, he never woke up in the same place. He could never remember what he had done, and the antidote was to help both. The urge to strech, the growing pangs he had felt many times before and the fear was returning to him. He had needed Mr John Dough to assist him, but now HE was missing... dancing and then disappearing. Grrrrr.. where is that Dough boy?! And now for the Rubber chicken.

        As Mr. Dough suddenly reappeared, a sense of deja-vu came over him. He vaguely seemed to recall that as before, the solution would lie in the hands of Mr Dough. This situation was always so confusing, yet he felt as if his mind could never be clearer. Enough with that though.. there was a job to do.. and he only had a short time to prepare the antidote before it would be too late. He went back to the brewing solution and realized that there was something missing.. although he didn't know why or how he knew, there was definately something that he needed to do before it would be completely ready.. Just as he was thinking that, he was tapped on the shoulder by Mr Dough. "Here, I think you'll be needing this....."

        To Be Continued...

        This story is dedicated to our good friend IrishMist