Interlude (The Phone Call)

Chris walked home, glad that he had gotten somewhere with Nora. She was a nice girl. Had a nice smile.

The afternoon passed without incident. He had something to eat, did his homework, then watched some crap on TV for an hour or so.

They had dinner pretty early in the Wesley household, usually around 6. After dinner, he thought it'd be a good idea to give Nora a call, to try and sort something out. He hadn't been to the movies by in a while, and it had been even longer since he'd last taken a girl to the movies.

He suddenly realised that he didn't write the number down, and he didn't know her last name.

"Shit."
"Fuck."

This continued for some time. After a couple of minutes, he stopped being annoyed with himself and realised that he'd heard the number mentioned before somewhere.

That was it! Sean had given him the number, he already had it on his phone!

He got his phone out of his pocket, found the number, then found the portable phone in the kitchen.

4-3-1-1-6-8-6
...
...
The phone at the other end started ringing
*Click*

"Hello?"

Chris assumed that the voice on the other end was Nora's mum.

"Hi, it's Chris, is Nora there?"

James flopped down is his chair, stinging with the pain of another rejection. He thought he had the found the right girl. But all she wanted was his money. Another notch to his rejection belt.

Despairingly he looked at his FHM foldout calender and his depression rose slightly, 3 months and he was to be 18, to be a adult.

Sitting up, he realised he was all alone in the mansion, his father was away operating on some poor womans brain while his mother was overseas instructing a nuclear physics class. The wave of depression swept over him again. He wanted to be with his parents, sitting around the table laughing with his mother at his fathers stupid antics, something that would always cheer him up.

He stood and walked to the window, looking out over the rolling green hills then down to the airstrip below. His plane still sat on the taxiway fuelled up and ready to go while his mother had taken the learjet, his passion of flying had been with him since he could remember and his parents had pushed him eagerly along the path of becoming a pilot. The feeling of being alone in the sky, away from everyone and everything, beckoned him to the plane but he promised his father that he would not fly until the instructor was back. Turning his back on the window he spied the keys to his Mitshibishi Evo 6. His dream car made a reality on his 16th birthday. If he could not fly, he thought, then he would get as fast as he could in the car and his father would never know...

A grapple clanked inconspicuously over the ledge of the open window. Castor eyes appeared, and he glanced over the sill. The room was empty, the phone was ringing. Ah, mischief. Was there anything it couldn't mess up?
Pollox called quietly from below:
"Hurry!"
Castor climbed through the window, his leather gloves leaving not a trace of evidence.
Pollox followed up the cable, drawing his pistol and standing guard by the door. Castor breathed in, and picked up the phone. In his best feminine voice he answered "Hello?".
He heard Chris Wesley speak:
"Hi, it's Chris, is Nora there?"
He waited just a second, and replied "No, I think you have the wrong number. This is 4311686."
Someone was coming up the stairs...Pollox whispered : "Footsteps...FLee!"
Castor hung up, and leapt out of the window. He slid rapidly down the cable and rolled onto the lawn. Pollox followed, and grabbed the cable. The pair of agents disappeared into the darkness, their white coats fading uncannily out of view.
Someone appeared in the room. The phone had stopped ringing.

This was not what Chris had planned. Firstly, he had the right number. He had called it before. Secondly, the people on the other end sounded strange, and the last thing he heard was the word "FLee!"

He decided to ring again, thinking he probably had done something wrong.

He dialled again. 4-3-1-1-6-8-7

*Ring Ring*
*Click*

"Operator."
"Uhh..."
"This is the Malakite. Operator 314, code name Roller. Are you alright? Do you need an exit?"
"Uhh..."

Chris hung up, this was getting strange.
The phone began to ring.

"Hello? This is Chr..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a strange sensation, as if his body had become liquid. This lasted for a few seconds, and just as suddenly as it had started, the sensation went. Chris looked around. This was not his kitchen. He was standing on a street, in a phone booth. He hung up the phone, stepped out, and looked around. He was somewhere in the middle of suburbia. Apart from that, he was extremely confused.

He looked across the street, at one of the houses. Two men in white trenchcoats had just jumped out of a second storey window onto the front lawn.

Things were getting weirder.

James tore over the small rise in the road, gravel was flying from under his tyres, his engine howling in protest for him to change up a gear.

"ha" he said to himself "if father saw this..."

A quick look at his dash told him everything he needed, oil pressure was fine, turbo boost pressure was fine, temperture was a little higher than normal but acceptable, 500rpm under the red line and the speedo showed 210kmh.
He smirked to himself, fastest hes ever done on gravel before.

The next corner approached and he set the car into a slide before the corner so he could power out, the safest way to take gravel corners.
Halfway round he knew somethnig was wrong, he sensed it, he knew something was going to happen, he couldnt pull out of the corner now, he was commited.

He came out of the corner and got the car under control and checked again that everything with his motor was fine, then it happened, two men in white coats had run onto the road while he was checking, there was nothing he could do but hope that he could stop in time, He reefed on the handbrake and got sideways but the men kept on getting closer and closer.....

Whimpy screamed.

What the fuck is this madman doing going so damn fast on a gravel road for. I mean realy me and my mate Whitey here decide to dress up like the notorius twins and things like this happen.

.,.*=*.,.

Yea for fucks sake just cause im called Whitey doesnt mean run me down with a fucking Mitsu.... WHUMP.

Whimpy and Whitey fly 100m or so down the road and into a grove of trees instantly getting torn into more shreads than they are already in and ripping branches from trees.

Whitey becomes blood red mist and chunks while what is left of whimpy is fought over by rats that follow him everywhere waiting for this to happen.

At times of recarnation whimpy often feels like he should come back as a school boy that dresses in an orange suit thing that disables intelilable speech. He isnt sure why but thats how it is.

He reincarnates next to a ringing phone...........

Frost stood on top of the bus. This was the cheapest way he'd figured out of travelling without expending any evergy. Just hop on, and see where you wound up. Since he had no life beyond speculation and the odd battle with people who strayed into his alley, he had little way to pass time.

The bus pulled up to its stop, any several people exited, and went about the rest of their systematic lives. Not being one to comment on what he did not understand, Frost sat quietly, impatiently, on the roof of the bus.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his retinas, he noticed a car, rather flash, speeding down a gravel road some distance away. It was one of those upmarket areas of town, where they think they're living in the country but really, they live in a conformity.

Frost was tired of waiting for the bus. He stood up, charged his energy and leapt into the air, black coat flailing behind him. He soared over the low houses, toward the mansions in the distance.
From his high vantage point, he spotted two guys in white coats sprinting onto a road...
The same road currently occupied by the car he'd noticed...

The could get messy.

Frost began to tire, and dropped down, next to a phone booth.

What the hell is going on now whimpy thought to himself, and what is that rushing of air.... whimpy looked up just in time to see tuberuis fall on his head.

Ahhhhhh what the fuck? does being drunk carry on into the next life? what the hell is going on here, this is utter madness.

"why the fuck did you just fall out of the sky onto my head? who the hell falls out of the sky anyway"

Whimpy picks up the phone that seemed to demand his attention and was about to drop it on the hook again so it shut up when he felt all funny and proceeded to apear next to a confused looking guy standing in a street.

"Yo dude whats going on everythings all crazy today"

Gerald's bus had taken him to his bus stop, from which he travelled home. His afternoon progressed in the usual manner, and he was quite proud of that. No Albino Bob Marley Twins annoying him, and no getting sucked into an alternate reality or whatever. Time passed for Gerald without incident, and he decided that he woudl prefer it if it stayed that way.

The car finally came to a halt.
James opened the door and walked to the front of the car.
"what the fuck, im sure there were two drunk fucks around here."
He inspected the front of the car and found a white nike sports shoe in the in the grille, a bit of blood was on the bonnet.

"must have been a deer"

He shook his head in amazement and hopped back in his car, started it up again and started rolling down the road.

"I dont think that I should tell father about this."

Guns. Clarke had lots of guns. And Blue label single malt whiskey. Clarke used to have a lot of that. Now it was all gone, and the temptation had been replaced with a warm glowing feeling right through his body. Clarke put the last two shells in the shot gun and yelled "Ma, there is some gaawd dam street raaacer dawn un the roadway thing. I'm ganna bust me sum caps in a rich towny boy's ass. Don't cam loooking far me until next yerr." Clarke stumbled out the door, across the front padock and down to road way where he could see some gibbs flying over his fence.

fuck fuckfbvy
(Courtesy of Clarke Anderson)

Chris watched in amazement. One of the men in trenchcoats was run over by a retard in an Evo. He turned to use the phone, so he could call 111, when a man landed in front of him.

"Dude, what the hell?"

At this point in time, Chris was surprised that he managed to say anything at all.

To be quite honest, Tiberius had expected (using other posts that he had no involvement in as a guide) to end up in front of Nora Fraser's house, from which point he could involve himself in the bus stop thread of which he could take no part, since he didn't attend school.

But that had been foiled by Whimpy, and now he was caught up in a weird Matrix-type thread, which he couldn't be bothered with, especially not after the alley.

He figured that he already knew Chris from somewhere (probably the alley but possibly a crappy party at Thomas's house), and because he'd had enough of referring to people by the way they wore their hair (also after the alley).

"Okay then,.." he managed.
"I'll give you a lift home if you like, Chris," Frost offered politely.

Clarke promptly shot himself in the foot then went to find another thread.