Monday, May 31, 2010

#6 Blame The Medication


 June 23, 2013...an undisclosed location in Maryland
"There! The damn thing moved!" Dick shook his head muttering..."I must be having some kind of episode from this new medication...a lawn jockey doesn't move..."
He automatically grabbed the secure Blackberry from the top pocket of the fishing vest he had taken to wearling lately and pressed the button which automatically paged his medical staff.
He tried not to look at the lawn jockey, but in his undeniable trance like fascination, he couldn't help it. The lawn jockey had turned its head, with it's garish red lips grinning on its coal black enamel face and was looking right at him! It's vaudevillian pickaninny eyes were bugging out...
Then, incredibly in slow motion, the lawn jockey raised its lantern and seemed to beckon him....
Mr. Cheney gasped involuntarily and clutched at his chest and scrambled in a bizarre crab like gait, as quickly as the pain in his chest would allow back into the front door and collapsed in an overstuffed chair, wheezing painfully.
His vision began to blur and he felt like he was going to pass out, but he still couldn't resist the hypnotic urge to look out the window..."The fuckin' thing is moving!" Cheneys eyes bugged out in a bizarre almost hilarious imitation of the painted characature of the lawn jockey's badly painted iron face...
Yes, it really did seem as if the lawn jockey was moving in extreme slow motion, it had turned and was heading for the front door....
Sweat covered Dicks clammy face as he tried to get out of th chair in utter panic and  make it to the door to securely close and lock it, but it was almost with relief, a blessed sense of acceptance as his body slipped into shock and he fell to the floor and lost conciousness.