His uncle disappeared down the sidewalk, leaving Dan all alone, feeling like a complete idiot. Now, even his uncle had lost faith in him. I should have taken the pills.
CHAPTER 22
Every morning for the next two weeks, Dan got up, brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and took his pills. It became a routine, and it wasn’t long before he had dismissed the urge to avoid the medicine. He was docile and appeasing. The divorce and his wife’s pettiness had little effect on him. The rude people at work that he listened in on didn’t seem so bothersome anymore. The misery of his staff didn’t burden him, either. Every day was a great day.
It was the weekend now, and he had just picked up Clyde. The boy was all smiles as he slung his backpack inside the back door, hopped in the car, and buckled his seat-belt.
“Where we going, Dad?” he said in an excited voice.
“Bowling. Bowling with Grandma and Grandpa.”
“What? You always get us out of that. It’s so boring. I hate bowling. Can’t we go see a movie or something? Tell them I’m sick?”
“Ah, come on, Clyde. They haven’t seen you in a while. You must have grown six inches since the last time they saw you. Besides, they’re worried about you with the divorce and all.”
He pulled to a stop at the light.
“Son, we’re family. We got to spend time with each other. If we don’t, you’ll be all grown up one day, and you won’t even know them.”
“I know, I know, but I just don’t like bowling. The balls are too heavy, and Grandpa’s always bossing me around. I don’t like it when he does that.”
“He did me like that, too. It won’t be so bad, though. It’ll be fun, trust me.”
The light turned green a second before Dan turned back around.
HONK! HONK!
“What the …”
He could see the angry face of some man and woman in a sedan screaming and gesturing his way. He sat there for a second, drawing their strenuous looks of distain. Clyde was looking right back at them, at him, and back at them. Dan eased on the gas.
“Just ignore it, Son. They're probably late for something. People get upset pretty easily these days.“
Two seconds later, the sedan crossed the yellow line and pulled along his side. The faces of the people were furious.
“Don’t let them pass, Dad! They can’t pass you, not the Buick! Give it some gas!”
Dan nodded his head as the people gestured wildly and blew on, but his foot didn’t even have the urge to plunge the gas pedal.
“Dad?” Clyde whined. “Why’d you let them pass you for? Smoke the tires or something.”
“No can do, Son. Besides, you aren’t in any rush to bowl, are you?”
The boy slumped back in his seat and said with a dumbfounded look, “Guess not.”
Safety first. Pretty easy.
“Hey Clyde, I was thinking about getting another car, maybe one of those new hybrids.”
The boy bolted upright in his seat and said, “You can’t get rid of the Buick, Dad! You can’t! It’s the fastest car in the world!”
“Easy, easy now. I’m not gonna get rid of it, just garage it. We need something safer, and the Buick is pretty old now,” he said, patting the dash.
Clyde stuck his finger in Dan’s face.
“Don’t—sell—the BUICK!”
Dan just shook his head. I guess it’s only a car, after all.
The lanes of the bowling alley were busy. Dan’s mom, dad, brother, and brother's girlfriend were all there, plus a few of his dad’s friends. Dan talked with them all, never batting an eye at all of the stupid things they were saying. His mom gushed over Clyde for the first fifteen minutes. He watched his Dad torment his son with all of the techniques of bowling. When he wasn’t watching that debacle, he was actually talking to his brother, Cooper. It didn’t even bother him that his little brother looked like he'd added another ten pounds of muscle, or that his brother’s girlfriend had added another ten pounds to her breasts. He drank his beer, bowled, and chatted with everyone. And everything was just fine.
He checked his phone and saw a message from Clyde.
PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE!
There was another from Shooter.
WHERE YOU BEEN? CALL!
He deleted that one.
“You’re looking well,” a familiar voice said.
It was Uncle Lou. He stood up and gave him a hug.
“Man, thanks for coming. I was afraid—”
“Don’t say anything,” Lou said, handing him a beer. “Listen Dan, what I said that night. I’ve been thinking about that, and—”
Dan waved him off. “I’m good. Really good. Just let it go.”
“You seem pretty relaxed, Dan. You sure you are good? I mean, I’m looking around here and things are still … how shall I put it,” he looked over at Cooper and his fiancé, “ … in decline?”
“I don’t care. I’m good with it. Everyone’s happy, so I’m just going with it.”
“Okay,” his uncle said, as they clinked bottles. “So, how’s that invention?”
Dan nodded as he sipped. “It’s coming along pretty good.”
He watched the circus all around him with no desire to add any nets to the show.
Dan was sitting in the homemade workshop in his apartment. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of blue and gold gym shorts. He tied a black fiber belt around his lower chest. It had a black box on it that had an electrical cord attached. The black box had a dial on it as well, and another cord that ran from the box to a trigger in his hand. After years of hard work, his invention was finally ready to be tested.
He picked up a picture of himself with his ex-wife and son. It had been weeks since the divorce was finalized. She couldn’t even find anything to argue with him about now. He was perfectly complacent, but despite his pleas she wouldn’t be sold on trying to work things out. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, if his invention worked, he could make some real money and get things back to normal. Besides, he was pretty lackluster and sad; he just wasn’t mad anymore.
He got up from the chair and plugged his device into the wall.
“Here we go, Dan.” He said a prayer: “God, please let this work.”
He squeezed the trigger gun in his hand. He wasn’t sure if he felt anything or not. His brow was beginning to sweat now. He turned the dial up one more notch and squeezed the trigger again. A strange sensation wrapped around his body as a current of energy wrapped around him like a snake. He smiled.
It was working. But that wasn’t why he was smiling. The belt felt good, really good. He turned it up one more notch. It felt like two sets of hands were tickling his ribs, and he was starting to laugh. He turned it up another notch and began laughing out loud. Tears were forming in his eyes. He felt something like tiny fingers tickling all over his ribs. It was a good laughter, too. Solid and hearty. It wasn’t something that he couldn’t control; it just felt good. It felt even better that he knew that he could make a fortune. He released the trigger and tried to catch his breath.
“It works. I can’t believe it; it works.”
He was shaking, and his teeth began to hurt a little bit. All he could think of was strapping these devices to all of his fellow phone company employees. Any time they were having a bad day, they could just hit their buzzers and make themselves laugh. The laugh machine could heal the sick if they had it, too. The uses in medicine. Treating the depressed, how much would that be worth? He noticed a bottle of his pills on the desk. He shook them and said as he tossed them out the window, “I don’t need you any more!”
He turned the dial all the way up and squeezed the trigger.
The police report said that Dan’s maniacal laughing could be heard from all over the apartment complex and even down the road at the football stadium. It went on for over thirty minutes before the police arrived. Apparently, the trigger had failed, and
Dan couldn’t turn his machine off. His laughter had immobilized him. The police said that he was still laughing when they found him, but he was unconscious. When he woke up from his coma, he found out his ex-wife and Clyde had moved on, and some government agency had seized his invention with all of his notes. He ended up having to move back home with his parents, who always made sure he took his pills. Nobody believed his story about his invention. They all figured he had attempted suicide. And Dan never tries to do the right thing any more. He is no longer a manager at the phone company, but he still works there as a residential sales rep. He’s fifty pounds heavier, and the only time he smiles is when Ruth brings in her cupcakes.
The End
About the Author
Craig Halloran is a veteran, husband and father. He enjoys sports (mostly football), working out, fishing, writing, watching TV and entertaining mankind. His books are filled with endless action, exciting characters and compelling stories. For more news and anecdotes you can follow him at:
TheDarkslayer.com
Facebook: The Darkslayer Report by Craig
Twitter: Craig Halloran
Other works by Craig Halloran
The Darkslayer - Book 1: Wrath of the Royals
The Darkslayer - Book 2: Blades in the Night
The Darkslayer - Book 3: Underling Revenge
The Darkslayer – Book 4: Danger and the Druid
The Chronicles of Dragon: The Hero, The Sword and The Dragons
Zombie Day Care: Impact Series – Book 1
Zombie Rehab: Impact Series – Book 2
In the works by Craig Halloran
The Darkslayer – Book 5
The Chronicles of Dragon - Book 2
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