Sick
That schmuck always beats me to the punch. Always writes the book before I get a chance to type it up. I am quite sure he is stealing the ideas from my mind somehow. Maybe it is one of my closest associates on his payroll giving him my ideas.
Thats probably it. How to explain all my ideas ending up on TV a month after I tell them to my wife. Come to think of it, I bet my wifes in on it too.
FINE! After I kill that bastard. I'll get her. Think I may wait awhile tho. Raising those evil fiends which sprang from her loins is more than I can handle alone. I,ll plot hers for later.
.............Floating offshore near Stephen Kings Gulf of Mexico residence
This boat cost me a pretty penny to rent. But it's all gonna be worth it once he's out of my head. Even now he taunts me. Tells me he is writing about how I'm trying to kill him even as I'm doing it. That bastard. As soon as this is over, I'm gonna buy two cases of beer, I deserve em.
.............Taking up a rifle laying near his side. A scope nearby fitted into the stock. With a jump he rises to the foward deck of the boat. Laying across the canopy he lines up his shot. A quick view in the lens brings a unlit room into view. A shadow slips by a downstairs window, and the barrel swings down slightly to find what caused the motion. A light flips on and again the barrel swings towards it, sighting. There! There in the window. A body. With slight pressure on the trigger, sweat dripping down his nose even in the frigid breeze, he waits for the shot. NOW! HIs finger squeezes the trigger as a wave knocks him off balance. The bullet burying itself in the stern of the boat.
Dammit! Now I gotta get outta here. Someone may have heard the shot. Crap looks like I'm taking on water. How the hell am I gonna explain this to the rental people. Man I best get. Try this later.
.............Jumping into the cabin he turns the key kicking the motor over. Not noticing the hole in the gas tank in his hurry. The water mixes with the gas on the floor sloshing around coating his feet. With a lunge the boat kicks to life, headed towards the nearest Intercoastal Waterway. Chuckling at his fear, and checking to make sure the amount of water isn't going to sink the boat he reaches into his pocket. Taking out a cigarette and a pack of matches, he lights his cigarette cupping the match against the wind. As he tosses the match to the floor his nose catches a whiff of something in the air. Gas?
............Later
Disoriented. Confused. Whiteness. Light everywhere. All Blurred. Then vision.
Where the heck am I? Why can't I move? Dammit. Why am I tied down.
Glancing around there is a person. A white person. White of skin. Clothed in white. White hair. White shoes. White belt. Bet this one craps white. It is asking us questions. Ask if we know who we are. Where we are. How we got here. Looks unimportant on the larger scale. A non entity.
Huh? I have to pee. Really bad. Can I get up?
Smile expectantly. Polietly. Wait. Feigning ignorance. It moves closer. Still asking its questions, but moves to release a restraint. A quick thrust and possibly I could choke this one. It would block the grander dream tho. I must wait.
Can I go to the bathroom Sir. I really have to go bad. I can't hear you. So you'll have to write down your questions.
Soon he's up moving. Glancing for directions to the bathroom he notices no windows, and a locked door. The only other door, open revealing a toilet. A quick step inside reveals no windows. The door propped open with a chair. Obviously there was a no privacy policy for whatever reason in effect. Finsihing up he steps away from the commode flushing it with his foot on the way out.
Think possibly I could get something that showed less of my ass?
He says something. Pretending not to be able to hear by a quick cup of the hand to ear. He repeats it louder and slower as if a deaf person could hear better by volume. Sure he says with a bobbing head.
Thanks
Tired of looking at your ass anyways he mumbles as he pulls a cabinet on a medical gurney open revealing a set of scrubs. Bright orange like a target. Obviously this is incarceration then. Plan my boy plan. Bigger plans await those who plan. Smiling you accept the scrubs and climb into them.
Food? Something to drink?
He spouts off alot about the cafeteria being closed but being able to call the nurse for water. Again the hand cupped to ear produces the desired result of increased volume and pantomine. A quick tap on his watch and he says no food. A turning up of hand as if drinking produces a nod, with a head bob towards a row of buttons on the wall along with a speaker. Grinning in understanding produces a pleased look.
Hey I think I almost heard you last time. Say something else louder.
Smiling he yells can you hear this. Which is rewarded with a look of relief. He walks to the row of buttons pushing one. Hey, could ya bring in some water for the guy in 5 north? A few seconds brings a response in the affirmitave. Be here in a sec he says. Placing his white pants tenderly into a white chair sitting near my bed. Creased to cut those pants are. This one is clean. Obsessively so from appearances. Got lucky could be a hard ass.
Thanks. Where am I?
Memorial Hospital he shouts.
