THE OFFICIAL "Post Your Non-Winning FLash Fiction Entry Here" Thread

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After I wrote my first story (see page 3, this thread) I got to thinkin', how did that statue get buried for a thousand years, so that Dusty could find it????
So I wrote this story, my second and last entry........

Never say "Never"

He stopped. “It’s not safe, sir “ he said, then continued poking the ashes looking for hot spots.
He must have read my mind. I’d been thinking about going in to search for our jewelry, china, photos and other valuables. The wife, kids, even the cats were okay. Thankfully, nobody had been home.
“Do you think the fire might flare up again?” I asked.
“Not really.” he replied. “We’re concerned she might collapse.”
He was right. The roof was gone, along with much of the second floor. The main floor seemed stable, except the east wall. Parts were burned away, exposing the basement stairs and what was once the back entry.
An approaching vehicle distracted me. I turned to see Jennifer park nearby, get out and walk toward me.
“How are they?” I asked.
“Finally sleeping.” she answered. “Mom said not to worry, she can watch them as long as we need. What’s the news here?”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her what the fireman had said.
“It’s too early to tell.” I lied.
Insurance will cover losses, but money can’t replace everything. Among other things, we had an extensive movie memorabilia collection, signed art prints, prop replicas and limited edition pieces. Last winter, we’d gutted the basement to build a beautiful home theatre including a collection display area along one wall.
Just yesterday, our newest piece had been delivered. I’d barely had time to unpack and admire it when Jen yelled downstairs for me to hurry. She’d also made it abundantly clear that everyone was starving and her Mom wouldn’t wait to serve dinner. In my haste to obey, I’d tripped on the shipping box and skinned my shin on the stairs.
It’s still tender today.
“You look terrible, and you reek of sweat and smoke,” she said plugging her nose.
“I love you too,” I grinned.
I expected a smile in return. Instead, she looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, but before she could answer, I also realized.
Something was different. The air was still. There was no sound.
Then, without warning, a deafening crack echoed throughout the neighborhood, followed by a splintered groan.
Instinctively, we jumped to the nearest cover, behind the minivan. Peeking through the windows, we watched in amazement as the remains of our home crashed in on itself. A cloud of ashes, soot and debris was thrown skyward, then fell all around us. A large something clipped my forehead before landing at our feet. I glanced at Jen. She was staring downward. I followed her eyes to the object that had hit me, a charred chunk of printed cardboard.
It read. “Sideshow Collectibles, Sauron, 1138/9500.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
“It’s all gone, forever.” was all she said.
We shared our sorrow in a long, silent embrace.
She’s probably right. For safety’s sake, they’ll just bulldoze everything into the basement and cover it with dirt. Anything that might be worth salvaging will never see daylight, again.
 
After reading the stories posted here I feel a bit better about myself. I wrote a total of NINE stories and was quite disappointed to see that none of my 9 submissions made it into the Top 14. Just have to shrug shoulders and move on, it is a subjective enterprise and everyone has a different opinion, I've read a few stories in this thread that I thought as deserving if not more to have been among the Sideshow Chosen (along with some of mine :angelsmil )

The time I spent writing and rewriting these stories, from November to the dead-line in January, honest to God, I could have spent that time working overtime and could have bought a Cave Troll with the money earned!! :sick

I'd appreciate comments on the stories. :)
 
#1: ONE MAN'S TRASH IS ANOTHER MAN'S TREASURE (498 words)

“Thank God! They took the DVD system!! What a relief.” The house owner almost wept with joy. The police officer shot him a puzzled look.

1 week ago:

Kerrrangggg!! Damn, that was loud. He knew the owner was gone for a few days. Still, big noises in quiet places made him nervous.
He moved into the house, a dark cave hiding untold treasures. Yeah, this would go clean. And he had time. People hid stuff in closets. So predictable.
He dashed upstairs to the bedroom. And paused. Above the bed were 16 dark circles. On closer inspection they each seemed to be depicting… God, some of that stuff was ugly. Was this guy a Satanist? People or things crying out in pain or anger… Weird. The burglar moved towards the closet. Socks, underwear, t-shirts, pants, no money, no jewels. Wait, boxes. He took a closer look. “King of the Dead”. Sounded creepy. He quickly kissed the cross dangling around his neck.

He moved back downstairs. Living room. More stuff on the wall. An old man battling a demon. Religious nut? In the other corner some kind of lizard with wings and a guy with a steel helm sitting atop it. Guy lives alone in a house filled with Satanist images. Maybe he’d come across a serial killer. He’d read about those. Ok, focus! Things I can pawn off to Barney…

He looked down the staircase towards the basement. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Turn on the lights for the basement? I’m not freaking out.

He went down the stairs.

I’ve seen movies like this.

He arrived at the bottom, shone his flashlight around. Ahh, now we’re talking. TV, DVD player, load ‘em up and buzz out. He went closer to the entertainment center. Next to the TV was an assortment of further demon idols.

Holy crap, what is that? Demon with horns, bursting in flames and holding a fire whip? A monster with cracked skin holding a giant hammer? A zombie thing wearing a crown and holding a frickin’ knife? Who was this guy?

I don’t know and I don’t wanna find out. He quickly got to work, grabbed the DVD player and receiver. This will get me about $50 at Barney’s, pisses me off, if this dude were here right now I’d show him to waste my time like this and give him some… what was that? Did he hear footsteps above him? Was someone breathing down his neck?

He turned and came face to face with a bodiless head. Smaller, with a mean stare and pointy ears. And a mean case of psoriasis. Nestled on a book shelf. He almost dropped the flashlight. Screw it, I’m outta here. And he made off with a three year old DVD player and receiver for which he got $30 from Barney.

And so the owner of the house came back the next week to find his DVD system gone. And most happy to find his Sideshow Collectibles in place.
 
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#2: A TESTAMENT TO OBSESSION (498 words)

His father was pushing 70. Totally believable that he’d forgotten to take his car in for a regular check-up. It had been a long-formulated plan, ever since the spring of 2004, when he first saw the Balrog, Witch King and Cave Troll in his father’s den. When he proclaimed that he wanted to get himself those as well, all he got was snickering. “My 40 year-old, unmarried son… do you have $4000 lying around that I don’t know of?” Seething like an orc sniffing a wounded elf, he never forgot his father’s contempt.

Since exploring the world of Sideshow Collectibles, he realized he had missed the boat. His father had been in it from the beginning. The list went on and on. Watcher in the Water. Orthanc. Strider. Stone Trolls. Moria Orc Archer. Sam and Bill. He didn’t really care for Sam and Bill but the fact that he was rare, even if unnumbered and no one really had a clue how many had been made, it called to him. He wanted it, oh yess Preciouss. The Ringwraith and Steed he had barely managed to obtain for $500. And he had a collection of orc busts he was able to get for below retail on eBay. He also had collected all four Wall Plaques but strangely enough, they were well below their original value, nobody wanted them. Strange. But Balrog of Moria, Witch King, Cave Troll? How would he be able to obtain those? Of course he could take up a job and earn money to buy them at collector’s prices on eBay but… naah, not an option.

So what to do, what to do… his father always nagged him, about working for a living, always threatening to cut off his pocket money, and he even did once, the bastard! Ha, he showed him! His father was a clean-cut man and after two weeks of refusing to shower, shave, brush teeth or change clothes, pocket money was reinstated.

Tinker a little bit with the car, wait for time to do the rest and his father was bound to get into an accident sooner or later. It finally happened.

He sat in the lawyer’s office, trying his best to repress his joyous emotions about his impending inheritance, dreaming of being surrounded by the preciousss statues and busts of Sideshow.

The lawyer commenced: “As to my well-known addiction to my Lord of the Rings statues from Sideshow, I declare the following: I loved them so much, they gave me a great joy in my twilight years. You could say they made me feel like a King of Twilight.”

The lawyer frowned briefly, as the inheritor rolled his eyes in impatience.
“I wish for the boxes of my collectibles to be used for my cremation. The statues, busts, helms and environments shall be buried with me, to keep me company. My only son shall receive the Sideshow Wall Plaques. He always wanted to start his own collection. He really deserves those."
 
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#3: THE GARAGE SALE (494 words)

His Gram-Gram was the best grandmother in the world but giving away his priceless comics 20 years ago still hurt sometimes, especially when he checked the catalogues. He could have sold those comics today and completed his Sideshow Weta Collectibles with that money! And this included all the statues, busts, medallions, wall plaques, environments, helms and arms!

He walked down the suburban street. A sign appeared before him, advertising a garage sale. He followed the sign. An old lady sat on her lawn chair, smiling up at him.

“Looking for anything specific, dear?”

“Not really, thanks.”

“Have a look, let me know if there’s anything that catches your fancy.”

He nodded, looked over the old VHS unit, the battered 12” B/W TV, assorted cutlery, clothes from when Dr. Martin Luther King still had a dream, a Cave Troll Statue, an old baseball cap, a … whaaa?

His heart skipped a beat. He stared at the Cave Troll, expecting it to dissolve into something else. The Sideshow Weta Cave Troll statue withstood his gaze.

He cleared his throat. “How much for that?” God, he hoped she couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest.

She came over. “Oh dear, I’m not sure. It’s my grandson’s stuff. He’s off to college and I’m sure he doesn’t need these ugly things anymore. He’s growing up to be such a handsome young man, my Bobby.” She paused. “Does $50 sound ok to you?”

He was starting to sweat, he could feel it. Palms all moist.

“50? How about $40?”

He was feeling bad but this was his revenge, this was justice for when ScumOfTheEarth went off into the sunset with his premiere issue of Amazing Spider-Man, among many others. Did he feel bad for her Bobby? Maybe, but forget Bobby. Bobby could have a taste for what he had experienced all those years ago. This was his reward, it was meant to be. He excitedly went for his wallet and gave her a $100 bill.

“Oh, don’t you have smaller bills? I don’t think I can give you change for it.”

I could just give her the entire bill. The Cave Troll is worth at least $1500, don’t be a pig.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

“I’m sorry, I have a $20, otherwise just 100s.”

“Oh well, dear, that’s ok, just give me a $20. You have such a nice face, I’m sure your mother is very proud of you.”

He swallowed. Gave her the $20 bill. She smiled. He took the statue into his drenching hands. As he carried it off the lawn it slipped from his hands onto the sidewalk. KRACK! The statue broke into 3 pieces.

“Oh God, no! Noooooo!!!!!”

For the rest of the afternoon the old lady felt uncomfortable with this strange man standing motionless staring at the broken monster. Maybe she should have mentioned that the peg holding the monster on the base was gone. But for $20 what do you expect?
 
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#4: AS SEEN ON EBAY (172 words)

All listed by ‘SideshowNut73’:

Jan 15, 2004 - “Cave Troll Statue by Sideshow Collectibles for sale. Getting married.
On this day in 3019 of the Third Age: The Fellowship spends the night in Moria. How fitting!”

Sept 22, 2004 - “Balrog of Moria Statue for sale. Need down payment for house.
Happy Birthday, Bilbo and Frodo!”

Mar 13, 2005 - “Witch King of Angmar Statue for sale. Kid needs diapers.
On this day in 3019 of the Third Age: Frodo entrapped by a big Spider (I’m just sayin’)”

Feb 26, 2006 – “Complete Lot of Lord of the Rings 49 statues and 49 busts for sale.
Getting divorced.
On this day in 3019 of the Third Age: Boromir killed (Lucky bastard, he never got married)”

Mar 25, 2006 – “House for sale. Want to buy complete Sideshow Line of LOTR
Collectibles. They got Premium Format now.
On this day in 3019 of the Third Age: Destruction of The One Ring. (I feel like… a great weight has been lifted off of me!)”
 
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I personally am a bit proud of this one, I have a feeling Sideshow was a bit prejudiced against Weta being mentioned in the stories, which would basically have cancelled out all of my submissions...

#5: 180 WORDS ABOUT180 SIDESHOW WETA PIECES (180 words)

11 Environments transport you to places,
They bring back the movies to life,
52 Statues of all sorts of races,
49 Busts are too much for the wife.

You prepare yourself for the blaming,
When you open that new Sideshow Collectibles box,
And your partner sees you’ve acquired yet another piece, exclaiming:
“You are more crazy than a fox!”

Rejoice in your latest purchase of a helm in quarter scale,
You now have all 37 helms complete,
You DID promise her after this one you would curtail,
And she believed you, which is no mean feat.

If caught looking at the 16 Medallions in reverie,
And just yesterday she determined you completed 10 Arms Plaques,
Recover quickly and pronounce: ”I was just thinking of you, my chérie!”
Otherwise she may grab Gimli’s Axe.

The 4 Wall Plaques, keep them secret, keep them safe,
Maybe one day they won’t be treated like an unwanted waif.

And for the Grand Finale, abstain a few months from acquisitions,
And carefully weigh the pros and cons,
Before you present her with Gandalf the Bronze!
 
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The next two stories are kind of two sides of a coin... Maybe some people will see a few familiar names... :D

#6: A LOVE LESS LIVED (489 words)

“It’s me or your statues.”

The words struck Donald as a hammer does an anvil. He couldn’t believe his ears. But there it was, Katrina finally said what she had felt for months.
What about the anticipation of the first glimpse of the next statue? The haggling with virtual buddies like Agent Elrond in forums, discussing the latest paint job on Helm’s Deep or detail on King Elessar? The giddy feeling and anxiety of opening that package when it arrived in the mail? That intoxicating smell of fresh Polystone?

No more. He loved Katrina and his hobby made her unhappy. And it wasn’t a “hobby”; she helped him realize it was an “obsession” and “cost too much money”. She was so good to him, she was right, of course she was.

Months passed. Things were good. Movies on a Saturday. Romantic dinners on a weekday. Walks in the park. Planning a vacation.

Like an uncomfortable old flame who couldn’t take a hint, old buddies would send unbidden emails, inquiring to where “GodzillaOfAllSideshowWetaFreaks” was, the most prolific contributor their forum had ever known. But eventually they let him be.

Then one day it rained and the most excruciating pain bolted through him. He couldn’t block the memory. How he picked up his first Sideshow Weta piece from the post office during a thunderstorm, sitting in his car, the raindrops pelting on the car roof as he sat alone during this most intimate moment of the reveal of the statue, peeling away her paper layers to discover she was untouched. It was his first time, and the Arwen statue was the beginning of his relationship with Sideshow Collectibles.

The front door slammed shut. He closed the browser window quickly and jumped up from the computer. He knew better than to bookmark THAT company’s website and also learned to always delete the browser history if he strayed over THERE.

She suspected, that much he was sure of.

“What did you do today?” An edge in her voice?

What she didn’t know didn’t hurt her. And it didn’t mean anything, really. It had nothing to do with her. Really.

“Almost done with boxing all the Sideshow stuff.”

“I see. Why are you renting a separate apartment?”

She waved a rental agreement in front of him, hurt and anger in her face.
Damn, the future home of his collection. Should’ve been more careful. Donald was at a loss for words.

“Is this your little love nest? Are you seeing someone else?”

He found it easier to admit to that than the truth. Eventually she calmed down and he suggested they see a couples therapist.

In therapy the therapist discovered Donald was sublimating his collecting ban with the affair. Katrina allowed Donald his Sideshow collection again.

Donald exited the therapist’s office, thanking him for his help. Katrina went ahead.

“Thank you, ‘Agent Elrond’.”

“Nice meeting your wife, ‘Godzilla’.” They shook hands, grinning ear to ear.
 
#7: A LOVE FULLY LIVED (477 words)

“It’s me or your statues.”

The words struck Ronald as a hammer does an anvil. He couldn’t believe his ears. But there it was, Sonya finally said what she had felt for months.

What about the anticipation of the first glimpse of the next statue? The haggling with virtual buddies in forums, discussing the latest paint job on Helm’s Deep or detail on King Elessar? The giddy feeling and anxiety of opening that package when it arrived in the mail? Would it be intact or would there be a defect, which would mean more weeks of waiting till the replacement arrived? That intoxicating smell of fresh Polystone?

“I really think you have taken this too far. I mean it was really sweet when you got me the Aragorn and Arwen busts but when will you stop with the toys?”

“They're not toys.”

“And recently you got that ugly bass-hog thing...”

“Balrog. Of Moria.”

“How much was that thing again?”

Ronald didn’t even blink. He knew better than to be honest. “About a hundred bucks.”

“Shouldn't cost a penny over fifty if you ask me.”

“It’s a limited edition. There's only a thousand of them worldwide.”

“Your place looks like a toy store. I can’t sleep here anymore, all these busts creep me out! Who has a Harem guy with a sword stuck through him on display??”

“That’s Haradr…”

Sonya shot him one of her patented ultra-dirty looks, which stopped him in his tracks. She tried to calm down; maybe it was possible to get through to him.

“I can understand you getting a Gandalf bust or Legolas but Bimbo? You're not rich, you can't get everything.”

“I got Bilbo for a really good price.”

“I don't care if you got Bimbo for a good price! It still adds up!”

“It's Bilbo...”

“And you keep buying more! Now you're backing out of our vacation plans. Enough with the toys!”

“They're not toys. They're art, they're collectibles.”

“Come on. A Pimpin bust?”

“It's Pippin.”

“I don't give a rat’s heinie! And now this latest monstrosity, for God’s sake! A frickin’ Slave Mole.”

“Cave Troll. The statue version. That’s the last one I’m gonna get, I promise.”

“I’ve heard that before. It's either me or Lord of the Dingbats.”

A week later Ronald was sitting in front of his computer, sipping tea. Today was the day when the Premium Format Lurtz was being fully previewed and made ready for pre-order. He read a post by “Jlcmsu”. Yeah, where the hell did “GodzillaOfAllSideshowWetaFreaks” go? “Blue Flame of the West” always cracked him up. He loved these guys. They understood him. Geez, “JesseaWilson” was looking good. He shook his head, had to snap out of it. He kept refreshing the Sideshow webpage. Soon, very soon. He smiled, all was good with the world. Girlfriends come and go, but Sideshow Collectibles was forever.
 
#8: SCULPTING RELATIONSHIPS (496 words)

Xander had wanted it and he got it! The assignment for the Witch King of Angmar statue for Sideshow Collectibles. A joint venture between some collectibles company in California and Weta Workshop.

Mike Asquith could eat his shorts. He was getting all the good stuff anyway, Gandalf The Grey and Aragorn bust, Lurtz statue. Just because Mike knew a guy. Xander didn’t need to play the game, he was talented.

He pondered the pose for the Witch King. Has to be stabbing Frodo… ghostly flowing robes, yeah babe, he could do this.

Mike entered the room. He couldn’t believe they gave the Witch King to Xander. Of all the statues Mike had lobbied for, he had lobbied hardest for the Twilight Witch King. Well, harder for Saruman statue and Wormtongue statue and the Lurtz bust. And then there was the Strider statue. He’d already done the Twilight Witch King bust. But still. He had wanted the Twilight Witch King statue and they gave it to Xander. Pissed him off something mighty. He’d have to take action, oh yes.

Richard Taylor came into the sculpting room.

“We have such a desire… to achieve the best results and want to impress… the fans, to hold a three dimensional piece of art in their hands… to capture a moment in the story, not just from the movie but that can stand the test of time… and is not just a carbon copy of the actor but of the character.”

“Yes, Richard, we got that. I still think you should’ve let me get closer to Viggo’s likeness on the Strider statue.” Mike had gotten away with creating close likenesses with all his other projects until they finally caught on and shackled him with Strider. There was some shouting but he had to give in finally.

Richard Taylor exited. Mike turned to Xander. Xander shrugged and grinned. Mike succeeded in throwing a half-grin back.

Peter Jackson came by.

“Hey guys. What’ve you got?”

Mike grabbed PJ’s attention quickly. “Hey Peter, here, I’m working on the Ugluk statue.”

Peter chuckled. “That’s fantastic. Do you think you could add some more gore coming out of the severed head?”

“Sure Peter, no problem.”

“How is Xander coming along? It’s his first collectibles project, isn’t it?”

Mike dropped his voice. “Oh real well, Peter. Xander is a trooper.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah, but the mate is working like a dog. He’s behind on last week’s foam order. And now the Witch King statue on top of all this…”

“Hmmm, well that won’t do at all.” He projected his voice towards Xander.
“Great stuff, Xander, we’ll see you at the party. Viggo is making his famous curry dish.”

“I’ll see you there Peter, thanks.” Xander went back to his sculpt. There, Mike was at it again, buttering up everyone. Talent will decide in the end, he firmly believed that. He didn’t need to get political.

And that is why Xander Forterie only ever did the Witch King statue.
 
The last one, I thought nine might be a lucky number, as in Fellowship. :rolleyes:

#9: PRICELESS... (46 words)

Selling your wife’s wedding dress because “it serves no further purpose”: $300

Balrog of Moria Statue: $300

Cave Troll Statue: $300

Witch King of Angmar Statue: $300

The feeling you experience when you realize these were YOUR Sideshow Collectibles sold on eBay by your wife: Priceless.
 
I'll have to take some more time reading your stories Beren, before I can comment on them. Meanwhile, here's my second entry:

The S-Files

My palms are sweating and I have a splitting migraine. I’ve been sleepless for
countless nights now, poring over the facts in my brain. This is the moment I
have been waiting for. Beyond that door will be the culmination of several
weeks’ worth of investigation. The modus operandi of this person certainly ranks up there with bizarre and verges on the occult. The break in the case occurred when I was alerted of late night flashes emanating from this very room. This was despite the fact that we have been having some thunderstorms lately.

I recall them calling me in after the third incident. The first two involved
what seemed then like petty gag thefts: fishnet stockings, and a pink Halloween wig. Both were taken from their owners’ respective lockers.

It was the third one that did it, because this one was from the drama
department. It would have otherwise been low-key, had it not been for the fact that the purloined item was over a hundred years old.

I acted on the hunch that the scene would repeat itself tonight. I unholster my firearm. I slowly twist the cold metal knob and nudge it enough to leave the door ajar. I was determined to have the element of surprise despite the sloshing of my rain-drenched overcoat. Thank goodness all the school door hinges were greased last week in preparation for this. Through the frosted glass I can make out a solitary silhouette seated with its back to the door. Now is my chance!

Bam! I kick the door in. “Hands up!” I shouted, aiming my gun. The scene is
grisly. The high-powered flashlight in my other hand aimed its blinding beam
directly at an amber computer screen on a table, then to a camera on a tripod, until it finally rested on the person who whirled around from a ramshackled rattan chair. There, in full view is a half-shaven man in his late 50’s, wearing fishnet stockings, Nina Cantrell’s pink wig, and Pavlova’s antique tutu skirt. And in his trembling hands he was dangling what looked like carved heads. Somehow through all the layers of white makeup, I can discern the face ....

“Mr. Edwards? Is that YOU?” Buck Edwards has been the school’s janitor for a
good 20 years now. “Explain yourself! What’s the meaning of all this?!” He
slumped in his chair, shook his head, and resignedly mumbled to me.

Somehow the three simple words he mentioned made everything crystal clear. I briefly shuddered, yet immediately understood the reason for his actions, and what drove him to do it. It just made me wonder how many other people out there are willing to risk exposing themselves to the same inane type of behavior.

The three words? “Sideshow Collectibles Fantacular ...” Case closed.
 
And my third and last one:

The Fix

There’s no cool breeze to be found out here in the desert. The sun is glaring,
and the AC in my ’57 jalopy convertible gave out a long time ago. I can taste
the salt from the dried-up sweat on my chapped lips. My sun burnt face feels
like toughened leather. I can barely see the mirages forming on the hot slick
coal tar road ahead of me because of all the dust that has now formed on my hazy
windshield.

Yeah, I’ve been driving now for a good thousand miles, feeling quite the
fugitive. I’m surprised the hallucinogenic sea of undulating sand dunes has not
mesmerized and lulled me to a somber sleep. Sleep – now there’s a word I’ve not
met for over a good 24 hours now.

You would think with all this driving that I was born with nomadic genes. It was
not long ago that I was sitting comfy in a leather executive chair atop the 71st
floor of the tallest building west of Manhattan. You should see the view from my
window. You could easily see a good hundred miles to the coast on a clear day.
Yet, I left all that for my “fix”.

Yeah, I have no regrets. I know full well that there are people in my shoes who
would do the same thing. I couldn’t help it. By some insane twist of events I
decided to see to it myself. It was the only way I could see this deal go
through. I told my office that I was headed for a road “trip”. And it’s just
what the doctor ordered. Little did they know of this long-time addiction that
had already afflicted me.

I remember walking up to the warehouse door. I knocked, and heard a mumble. “Who
is it?” I quickly responded with what sounded like the day’s password phrase.
“I’m here to see Bob.” The door cracked open, and “Bob” walked out with the
package. I made the trembling motion of flashing him my credentials, when he
spoke up. “I know who you are.” He then handed me something that weighed like a
bag of sand. You couldn’t tell that Bob was a go-to person. He seemed like a
warm individual when he suavely dished out a smile, yet I wonder if that was his
real name. Who knows what else goes behind the door he just came from. I went
back to my car, laid the package on the passenger seat next to me, and draped my
suede jacket over it. I didn’t want to attract any more attention to myself
should someone see it. Not EVEN the cops.

So now I’m headed back. I slowly push back my jacket to reveal the box beneath
it. I crack a smile as I was reminded of a lousy commercial. Cost of gas to
drive over a thousand miles: $200. Holding an AP Cave Troll prize from Sideshow
Collectibles: PRICELESS! I am SUCH the polystone junkie.
 
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