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accident.hum 100644 0 1 24477 6612147343 11254 0 ustar root bin 80 Columns +:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ | +:-:+ :S:T:A:R:R:Y: :N:I:G:H:T: :P:R:O:D:U:C:T:I:O:N:S: +:-:+ | +:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ [:Proudly Presents:] "ACCIDENT" - By Tristan Farnon, based on a short story called "Terrified" [Introduction: We have all experience pressure at one time or another either through work, or school...but in tonight's story, we are introduced to three people, all experiencing a uniquely terrifying form of anxiety.] Beep beep. Derek lifted his wrist off the steering wheel and glanced at his digital watch. He looked over at Janet. "It's midnight. I shoulda gotten you home half an hour ago!" he laughed. She looked over at him and gave him a kiss. "Relax. My parents aren't home. They won't be home until Sunday, remember?" "That's right! I forgot about that!" he kept one hand on the wheel while leaning over to return her kiss. "I'm surprised there aren't many folks driving around this late." Janet whispered a small 'mmmm' while her eyes were almost hypnotized by the white dashes on the road slipping under and behind the car. She looked out the side window. No familiar buildings...just plain old countryside. "I hate this part of the city," she commented. "It's like...completely isolated from civilization!" she laughed aloud. Derek agreed, and continued to drive. This road seemed to go on forever. "Finally!" he said. "The road actually =bends=!" The road did bend, around a large hill. Quoting a line from 'Stripes', he laughed as he said, "I think it was all that cough syrup I drank this morning!" he swerved back and forth in both lanes drunkenly, as Janet understood the joke. "OH SHIT!" he screamed, seeing two headlights approaching quickly from around the bend. Janet grabbed onto the armrest and let out a scream, while the oncoming car swerved, hit the side of the hill and flipped over. Silence. It endured horribly. "You okay?" Derek whispered nervously, running both hands through his hair. "Yes." replied Janet quietly. The two got out of the car and walked over to the wrecked Toyota on the hill. The headlights were off, but the inside light in the car was burning brightly. A man moaned. Derek looked inside the car and saw him. His head and neck were pressed up against the windshield. His back was twisted on the seat. It was a stupid question, but Derek asked it nevertheless. "Are you all right?" No answer. "My god," he said emotionlessly, "he's dead." Then...a voice. "Help me..." his voice was scratchy. Janet looked down. "Derek, he's alive. He's okay!" "Help me. I can't move." he said. Derek looked away nervously. Janet looked over at him. "Derek," she began. The man whispered again, "Please...at least open the door and get me out of the car. I'll be fin--" his voice broke off in a wince of pain. Derek spun around on his heel. He looked at Janet. "Shit. Do you realize what I've just done...I've wrecked a guy's car and probably paralyzed him for life! My dad will kill me. Oh god...oh god..." Janet tried the door. "It's stuck." It was hopelessly bent out of shape. The other door was against the hill. Fortunately, though, the windows were rolled down. "Derek - help me get him out!" No response. "Derek!" Derek walked over to the car and glared down at him. "How do you feel?" The man darted his eyes around. "Not too good." He began to get frustrated. "Get me out of the damn car now, young man." "My dad CAN'T know about this," Derek said. "Get me OUT of the damn car!" the man demanded again. "SHUT UP!" screamed Derek. "Derek," said Janet. "Aren't you going to even help him?" "I can see what's coming. He'll sue. For millions. The insurance company can't help me. They'll probably give him twice as much if he's gonna be crippled for life, too. Oh, shit..." The man began to feel a strong, steady rage forming. He wanted out, NOW. "We've got to get out of here. We've got to get rid of him." "I think I'm going to die," said the man. The moment he said that, he realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life. He tried struggling with the seatbelt, but in his condition, he realized he couldn't even lift his head from the windshield. Frustration. He had to choose his words with extreme care in order to persuade these two. "You see?" said Derek, panicked. "He'll be dead in a few hours anyway. Let's just leave him and get the FUCK out of here." Janet began to think of her parents. If she told them of this incident, they wouldn't let them out anywhere again. Yes...she thought. This thing would be better off forgotten. "Fine," she said. "Let's go." "No!" cried the man desperately. "Don't leave me! Don't go! You damn kids! Come back here! If you leave, someone else'll find me! And when they do, I'll sue you for every cent--" He stopped. DAMMIT why did he say that. Damn. DAMN! He heard footsteps approaching. "What the fuck did you say?" asked Derek. "Nothing. Get me out of the car. It's your fault I'm practically paralyzed here anyway, so you'd better do as I say." "He's right, Derek," interrupted Janet. FINALLY, thought the man. SOMEBODY'S ON MY SIDE. A glint of hope. "Somebody WILL find him," she continued. His image of her was shattered. "I know," thought Derek. "But if they find him DEAD...we won't have much to worry about him, will we?" Gruesome thoughts filled the man's head. His mind was running wild. He was going to die - they would kill him to avoid prosecution. "Relax," he tried to sound calm. "I'm not going to sue you. I'm just... wait, what the hell are you doing? Hey - get the fuck out of my pockets!" Derek reached in through the open window and took the man's wallet. "HEY!" yelled the man. "Give that back - NOW." "Fuck," Derek whispered. "He's a cop." As if by pure chance, the moment Derek said "cop", a small police CB beeped in the overturned car. Instinctively, the man tried to turn his head towards it and pick it up. Over the air, Derek and Janet could faintly hear a woman talking. "WILLIAM? ARE YOU OUT THERE. THIS IS TYLER. OVER." "You see?" said the man. "They're looking for me. They know pretty much where I am. They're real close now. Face it, you've lost." "Shut up," Derek commanded. "It's too late, you too. The best thing to do is to get me out of the car." Janet looked nervously at her shoes. She was in this thing just as much as D2rek was - she knew that. Perhaps she, too, was to blame. The blood was filling the man's head from being upsidedown for so long. He began to feel uncomfortable (although before, the events had passed so quickly he hadn't noticed his position). His back hurt. He clenched his fists. A tear of rage and frustration rolled down his cheek and dropped to the windshield with a quiet pat. "Let's just GO, Derek," said Janet nervously. "Who cares if he's a cop? He'll be DEAD in a few hours! You said that yourself! He's trapped! He's not gonna go anywhere!" That sentence seemed to double the man's rage, and he erupted. "LET ME OUT OF THE DAMN CAR!!" he screamed. A small drop of blood rolled out of his nose. "Someone might help him out of the car, though," said Derek, completely ignoring the cop's outburst. "We've got keep him quiet! There's only one way to do that, and I think you know what that is." Janet closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Murder, she thought. This is murder...but it's to save her own skin. It's not like we're psychos or something. This child-like reasoning seemed to please her, and she nodded her head up and down in agreement. NO, thought the cop. THEY CAN'T KILL ME...I HAVE A JOB...A FAMILY... Derek went back to the car, and opened the trunk. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" said the cop. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Janet went over to the car and remained inside. Derek walked back to the twisted car, and kneeled down, looking the cop face to face to the first time. "What the hell are you going to do now," the cop said in the tone of voice that let Derek know that he knew full well. "I'm sorry. I have to." "No you don't. I might even let you off the hook this time." "I don't think so. That's not good enough." Derek reached for the rusted tire jack which he got from the car. "Please," begged the cop. "Don't do this - you're making a mistake!" Derek said nothing. He reached into the car with the jack. "NO!" screamed the man. Derek was frightened at the cop's loud voice, but remained calm. He lifted the jack above the cop's neck. The cop closed his eyes. He braced himself, knowing he had lost. Derek, too, closed his eyes, slamming the jack down upon the back of the cop's head. Janet, still in the car, shut her eyes quickly upon hearing the deathly thud of the jack. She relaxed her entire body. It was over. Derek grabbed the rusty tire jack and threw it into the back of the car. He had just killed a man, but his thoughts ran in the same direction as Janet's. He knew he wasn's crazy...he was saving his own skin. He jumped into the car and drove away from the 'scene' as quickly as he could. He looked at Janet, who was staring straight ahead. For no reason, he leaned over and gave her a kiss. Emotionless, Janet reached her hand over and combed through Derek's tossled hair. He closed his eyes. Janet screamed. He opened his eyes suddenly. Two lights were approaching him at lightning speed. Derek swerved to the right...and smashed through a small wooden fence bordering a deep ravine. The car tumbled and rolled for what seemed like hours. It flipped one last time, and burst into flames in an incredible explosion. Tyler got out of his car and looked down at the burning grass and trees. He slowly picked up his police CB radio. "WILLIAM? YOU OUT THERE? WE NEED SOME HELP. WILLIAM?" +:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ "Accident" - Copyright (C) Starry Night Productions - by Tristan Farnon +:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:+ Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open afteryou.hum 100644 0 1 17131 6612147344 11326 0 ustar root bin "You never seen me like this before, have you?" - Marilyn Monroe +:-:+ ..Starry Night Productions.. "After You" by Tristan A. Farnon.. +:-:+ Jerry Samuels sipped his coffee and looked out of the restaurant window. Gazing out across the street, he saw a couple holding hands. THEY'RE IN LOVE, he thought. THEY MUST BE. He followed them with his eyes until they disappeared around a corner. Jerry was startled when a man slightly older than him, dressed in a dark blue suit pulled up a chair next to him. "May I sit here?" he inquired. "Be my guest," replied Jerry. He was a bit impressed with the man's overall business-like appearance. "Lovely evening," the man said. "Lots of stars." "Yes." Jerry trailed off. "Clear night." "Name's Arthur. What's yours?" he pulled a loose end of string off his left sleeve and watched it float gently to the floor. "Jerry," he replied, extending his hand. "Jerry Samuels." "Nice to meet you," Arthur said. "What do you do for a living?" Jerry paused. "I used to work at Fox and Carskadon. Real estate broker." "But you don't anymore.." replied Arthur. "Fired. This morning." Jerry said, looking back out the window. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have another job lined up?" Jerry took another sip of his coffee and smiled. "Me? Another job?" he laughed. "No.. no, I haven't got another job lined up. I wouldn't exactly be surprised if I remained unemployed for quite a while." Arthur nodded. "Why?" continued Jerry. "You have a position available?" he chuckled. Now Arthur paused. "Perhaps. If you're interested." "Where do you work?" asked Jerry. "Real estate?" "No.." began Arthur. "Nothing like that. I don't really have a permanent position available right now.. but, with my salary, you won't have to work another day in your life. I pay very heavily." "What do you mean, 'I pay very heavily'?" "One million dollars," Arthur whispered. "For one evening's work." Jerry laughed. "You're joking.. I couldn't make that much in one million years' work!" "Trust me," Arthur continued. "One million American dollars. All for you." Jerry smiled. HE SOUNDS JUST LIKE ED McMAHON.. HAHA.. "And just what is it that I have to do?" replied Jerry. "Are you saying you're in?" Arthur said, sitting up slightly. Jerry looked at his watch. 10:15. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, sure.. what the hell, I've got nothing better to do." "Good," Arthur smiled. "You won't regret it. Come with me." +:-:+ The two walked across the dark street to the Red Lion Inn and took the elevator to the sixth floor. "Where are we going?" Jerry asked. "Your office?" "No.. not my office," replied Arthur. "You'll see." The elevator bell chimed once, and the doors slid open. Arthur led Jerry to room 634 down the hall and opened the door. Ushering Jerry in quickly, he closed the door and picked up a small leather bag off the floor. "What exactly is it that I'm supposed to be doing?" inquired Jerry. Arthur opened the leather pouch and took out a pistol. Jerry said nothing, eyes rivited on the gun. "Is that.." he began. "A gun. A real gun. With real bullets. For real business." Arthur replied, and handed it to Jerry. Hands trembling slightly, he took the gun. "What the hell am I going to do with this?" whispered Jerry through his teeth. "Use it," Arthur said bluntly, and pointed towards the doorway to the outer hallway. "On the first person who walks through that door." "Use it?" asked Jerry. "What do you mean, 'use it'?" Arthur raised one eyebrow as if to indicate he felt he was dealing with a complete idiot. "Pull the trigger," he said. "Fire a bullet. KILL him." "No." Jerry said, putting the gun down on the bed. "I will not." "You will." Arthur said. "For one million dollars, you will." ONE MILLION DOLLARS, Jerry thought. He envisioned Ed McMahon again, talking to the public on television. ONE MILLION DOLLARS, Ed would say. ALL FOR YOU. JUST KILL THE FIRST PERSON WHO COMES THROUGH THAT DOOR. "How do I know you're not a cop?" Jerry said. Arthur raised his eyebrow again. "You idiot, I'm an accomplice. I gave you the gun, didn't I?" Jerry smiled. "Of course. How silly of me." Arthur scratched his ear and headed towards the door. "One million dollars," he repeated, gesturing towards the gun. "Just for pulling that trigger. No cops involved. Nobody will ever know." He closed the door, and Jerry could hear his footsteps trailing off down the carpeted hallway. Jerry was alone in a hotel room with the gun. +:-:+ Twenty minutes. Jerry had nearly worn out the carpet pacing back and forth. He tried turning on the TV, but it didn't help ease his mind. He looked at the gun sitting on the bed. It was pointed towards the wall. Jerry walked back over to it and picked it up. It was neither warm nor cool. It was slightly heavier than he remembered it to be. He looked down the barrel daringly, imagining how funny it would be if it fired right then and there. He stopped. Footsteps. Jerry tensed his shoulders and held the gun at arm's length. KILL THE FIRST PERSON WHO WALKS THROUGH THAT DOOR, he said. HAHAHA - WHAT IF IT'S ARTHUR? WHAT IF I KILL HIM? I WOULD LAUGH. He blinked and tried to hold his hands steady, which was virtually impossible. I'VE NEVER FIRED A GUN BEFORE, he realized. THIS IS MURDER. MURDER IN THE.. WHAT IS IT.. MURDER IN THE FIRST DEGREE. THAT'S IT. He imagined his trial. THAT'S THE WORD THE JUDGE WOULD SAY. The first degree. YOU CAN'T DO THIS, he thought. ONE MILLION DOLLARS, Ed reminded him again. GO FOR IT. The doorknob clicked and twisted to the left. THIS IS IT, Jerry realized. He heard Arthur's voice. "..certainly," Arthur seemed to be saying to his guest. "This way. Right through here." The door swung open. Arthur immediately scrambled back around out of the doorway. Jerry looked at his target.. a middle-aged man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He had a scraggly moustache. He looked at Jerry and the gun. "What the hell is th--" was all he managed to get out before Jerry fired the bullet. The man fell to the ground, grasping helplessly onto a bedspread. Jerry dropped the gun in shock and looked down at the man's eyes, which were still wide open, staring up through the ceiling. The body twitched, and Jerry jumped. "A job well done," Arthur complimented. "Couldn't have done it better myself." "Money." Jerry said. "I want my money. Now." Arthur turned out the lights in the room and closed the door behind them both. Jerry followed. "My room's right below us. Fifth floor. Will that be cash or check?" Jerry said nothing. He couldn't quite seem to get the words out. He had just killed somebody.. it was as easy as accidentally dropping your pencil.. or tripping on your shoelace. "I assure you," Arthur continued. "My checks are good. Very good, in fact." "Cash," he said. "Pay in cash. All of it." "Of course." The elevator chimed once again, and both Arthur and Jerry stepped out. Arthur passed only a few doors before he came to his hotel room. "Here we are," he said. "I'll put it all in a suitcase. After you.." Jerry stepped into the room and froze. The lady inside raised the pistol and clicked back on the trigger. ONE MILLION DOLLARS, she thought. THIS IS GOING TO BE A SNAP. +:-:+ "After You" - Copyright (c) July 19th 1986 - Tristan A. Farnon +:-:+ (>