And Somebody Spoke and I Went Into a Dream | Teen Ink

And Somebody Spoke and I Went Into a Dream

September 26, 2009
By zman1 PLATINUM, Bethesda, Maryland
zman1 PLATINUM, Bethesda, Maryland
45 articles 0 photos 31 comments

Favorite Quote:
You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.

Maladroit Gauche yawned, stretched his arms and stepped out of bed. His feet groped for his bunny slippers and just as he was about to place his left foot into the slipper, he hit the ground. He jumped to his feet and held on to his left foot, gushing blood. Maladroit hit the floor again and heard a loud crack. Pain was throbbing through his foot and a rivulet of crimson pooled all over his Barney carpet. He crawled into the bathroom and tried standing up and doused his face with lather. He groped for his razor and placed the blade near his throat. Another lake of blood cascaded as he slashed the razor across his throat. He screamed and pressed down onto his throat, as blood splattered all over the mirror.

He left the bathroom and came crashing down the stairs, spraying blood. “I guess I need breakfast”, he muttered to himself, as he placed his trembling hand in the coffee grinder and turned it on. In moments, chunks of his mangled hand splattered on the wall. “Maybe I’ll make toast”, he said as he wrapped his hand with a paper towel. Maladroit opened the fridge and found some bread. Just as was about to cut a slice, the blade descended into his flesh. Suddenly, he checked his watch and realized it was 8:00. “Oh s***”, he muttered, “I’m late”!

Maladroit ran outside and dashed across the street. But as he neared the police station, a car slammed into him, and his guts pooled all over the roadside. But, the pain didn’t matter because Maladroit had a job to do. He dashed down to the door and crashed into the door and groaned. The receptionist ran to the door and opened it. Maladroit stood there and rushed to his office. “Hey, Mal”, his co-worker muttered, “you’re still wearing your pajamas, you still have on bunny slippers, and you’ve got blood all over your face”. “Oh”, Maladroit said, “did you hear anything about that Ghost character”. “Mal”, his co-worker muttered, “you have been watching excessive re-runs of “The Fugitive”. “You’re NOT Samuel Gerard or Javert, you’re Maladroit Gauche”. “I will hunt down Ghost”, Maladroit shouted, “and I will bring him down”. “You will get your chance, Mal” his co-worker muttered “you will get your chance”.

The author's comments:
I came up with this story as part as a novel I am writing. My novel is about a boy who avenges the death of surrogate father by purging the streets of crime under the alias of Ghost. This is a one-shot centered on the cop who wants to take down Ghost. While creating this cop I was inspired by Samuel Gerard from "The Fugitive", Inspector Javert from "Les Mis", Closeau from "The Pink Panther", and Mr. Bean. I name this character Maladroit Gauche, who is an incompetent cop who has a drinking problem, a fixation for children's television, a habit of breaking bones, placing his hand in the coffee grinder, always getting run over by a car and he also has the IQ of a lima bean. I combine excessive gore and slapstick for comedic effect, so this is not meant by any means to be taken seriously.

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