Latest update **02/11/2011**
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It was Sunday morning on what was to be a warm summer day. Michael McCann was running late for his 10:00 a.m. appointment. He had many places to go and things to do, so he jumped in his 79′ Cadillac Eldorado and sped off. Fifteen minutes later, while driving, Michael realizes that he forgot his dog Max, the appointment was for his dog at the Vet. As he rushes back to the house, he finds a present with a note on his porch. It was a birthday note from his ex-wife for their dog. Happy birthday, Max, you’re the reason I stayed as long as I did. The note reminded him of his ugly divorce two long years ago from his ex-wife Marleen… how trite and meaningless the fighting had been… and even how cutthroat her divorce lawyer, Baxter Hawthorne had been… Michael had almost lost everything. Then he went inside the house, put down the note, grabbed his dog and rushed back to his Cadillac. He was cutting it close, but if he drove just a little bit above the speed limit, he might still be able to get Max to the appointment on time. Thoughts of his ex-wife kept clouding his mind as drove. As he passed over a narrow bridge where he once fished from as a boy, he noticed a strange figure standing at the side of the road about 50 yards up. Shrouded and dark, the figure raised his arm and pointed. As he got closer to the person he started to slow down to see what he was pointing at. Slamming on the breaks and quickly rushing from his car, Michael ran to the spot where the strange figure beckoned him–but the man (if it was a man) had disappeared and nothing remained except, Michale noticed, a small blue box on the ground in front of his left foot. With his adrenaline still pumping wildly, he felt obligated to take advantage of this serendipitous moment; slowly and carefully, he stooped down to examine the small box. With trembling hands, pounding heart and shaking legs, he picked up the box. As he started to open the box, a strange aurora surrounded the box and it began to hum. Michael began to perspire profusely; pulse rising, his legs feeling like quivering masses of jello beneath him. He blinked, and with that blink a strange forest surrounded him, and a rustling coming from the tree’s pounded in his ears. He knew what was going to happen, the sounds reminded him of dreams that beamed rivers of sweat down his pillow during sleepless nights. He had inadvertently opened his pandora’s box and out flowed haunting memories of his father’s rages, his sister’s suicide, his lost love Jenny and his forgotten dream of becoming a writer. In an instant, he watched 20 years of his life run backwards in his mind, and engulf him like a tornado as he fell to his knees. Michael realized he was meant to relive these events as if he had never moved forward in his life – and BAM! a man in a tuxedo appeared and whispered: “Follow me… I am your escort into the past.” Michael followed the man. Staring, Michael’s eyes met the thickness of strain as he tried to focus on the features of the gentleman towered before him. With that he took his hand and they both disappeared into a mirror.
“Date with Jenny“
Michael wakes up in his old apartment 15 years back in time and the man in the tuxedo disappeared. Next, he heard the sound of his old roommate Carl shouting “The phone is for you dude!!” with the music of VanHalen jamming in the back ground. Michael answered the phone, it was Jenny wanting to go out on a date. The sound of Jenny’s voice took his breath away, since it had been so many years since he’d spoken to her. It wasn’t the past politely haunting Michael at time’s distant, this was him reliving it in the flesh and all the deserted tormenting emotions wanted to release floods without constraint into his next sentence to Jenny; Michael’s jaw quivered but nothing came, then with a sigh releasing stalled breath he said, “Tomorrow 7pm, our usual spot…” “Are you okay?” she asked, reacting to the strangeness in his voice — she had always been like that, always able to sense when there was something wrong. Michael paused, taking a deep breath realizing that this moment was where he wanted to be, where he needed to be, where his life back then took it’s wrong turn; softly he said, “No, nothing could be better with me.” Michael mused for a moment how the world was now so open to him; he was a young man again, thriving, and his knowledge of this time gone past could make him rich and powerful, but foremost in his mind was only Jenny. Jenny paused for a few seconds, then reiterated, “Michael, remember when we talked about having children together? As the disconcerting wave of deja vu passed through him, Michael was reminded that memory tends to focus on the positive and minimize the negative and where Jenny is concerned he’d suppressed the pain of just how much of a tease she was; she promised one thing but delivered something totally different such as having children together but wanting to utilize artificial insemination. The reason being, Jenny was really a morphidite, she craved and yearned for him but the mere thought of him seeing what she really was would devastate them both; would he be okay with it, or would he be miffed and tell the whole community what a freak show jenny was?
“7 p.m. the next day”
Michael arrives at their favorite restaurant in Greek Town to meet Jen for dinner. Hoping that things would make themselfs clear, he wore his lucky t-shirt – the one with ‘VanHalen’ emblazoned across the front;the one Jenny couldn’t stand. While waiting for Jenny’s arrival, he noticed the waitress eyeing him in a flirtacious manner. He just then stole his eyes from the waitress because it reminds him of the past in which misunderstandings took place in between him and jenny’s relation. The waitress made her way over to him after picking up a jug of coffee on the way and asked, “See anything you like?” by way of an opening as she reached for Michaels coffee cup.“Is that decaf?” Michael asks with a dimpled smile as the sultry brunette pours the steaming liquid into the faded yellow cup. But Jenny never arrives; thus, Michael’s life takes a strange turn. Before he could say anything, the waitress drew a black shiny 45 caliber revolver and pointing at him shouted “Take this sucker!” as she emptied in his direction, but Michael rolled under the table and came up to her left firing his own 9 mm glock. Michael shoots the waitress just above her right hip, causing her to fall backwards onto the lap of an elderly patron seated one table over. The startled old man spills his scalding large cup of decaf on the waitresses head and back and shoves her to the floor. Michael walks over to where the waitress is laying, puts his gun to her temple and asks,”Who told you to shoot me?”
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