Welcome to my writing corner. Here you'll find stand alone stories and tales that stretch much longer. You'll find tales ranging from medieval adventure to modern stories about real people with a sci-fi twist. If you like/hate what you read, drop me a line and let me know.

You can find the stories grouped by the labels just to the right.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

What If? - Chapter 1

My phone rings, Give me back that Filet-O-Fish, give me that-

“Yeah?” I answer cutting off my ringtone.

“Dude, it’s me. Are you still on campus?”

“Yeah, it’s like 3 in the afternoon, I’m working.” I work at a University, in IT, I run email servers, it’s an okay job.

“Well get over here, I have to show you something?” the voice on the other end of the phone is Pat, he’s a Quantum Physicists, he’s a nice guy but I never know what the fuck he’s talking about.

“I’m still working, I get out at 4:30, I’ll swing by then.”

Click. That’s Pat for you, big on science, small on social graces.

The clock strikes 4:30, do clocks really strike anymore? I think about that as I pack up for the day and head across campus to Pat’s office. The University is filled with those old sturdy brick buildings, the kind that are forever old and look kind of sad. I get to the Science building and head through the dimly lit hallways to Pat’s office. I pass by labs crammed with college kids, young, trim, tight t-shirts, jeans just barely sagging, khaki shorts. Enjoy your youth motherfuckers.

I make it to Pat’s office and the door is closed, there is a sign crudely written on printer paper with a purple Sharpie, “In Lab 207”. Who uses purple Sharpie? With a sigh I make it down to lab 207 and open the door.

The scene laid out before me is difficult to describe. There sits Pat in a metal chair four feet off the ground, imagine Doc Brown in his late 20's. The chair is surrounded by crazy steel arms with lenses and gauges attached at odd angels. Then imagine that attached to one of the arms is a loaded double barreled shotgun pointed directly at the person sitting in the chair.

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