I am not a doctor...

 Please come in, have a seat Doctor Mario. How are you today?

I’m fine thank you. How are you?

Doing well. Now I was looking over your application. You have applied for the chief surgeon 

position here at the Mercy Memorial hospital, and I just had some questions.

Go ahead.

Well it says that you were the top of your class at med school and that you graduated as the Alma Mater, you received several merits and awards. You put here that you even successfully completed three residencies While that all looks good, but I just had one question…you never listed what school you went to. Only that you attended med school.

…Oh really? It doesn’t say? I thought it was on there. Hmm. Well I went to Northeast Scandanavia University. It’s foreign. The locals would call it NES for short.

Right..well I don’t see any references or contact numbers listed on your resume

I was the best at what I did.

And what was that? It says here that you specialized in…viruses?

That is correct.

Any in particular? Like the recent type 1 VP26 protein? Or the potato virus X?

More like the red, yellow, and blue ones.

Ok..

Look, I’ve done over several hundred operations. I’ve even gone up to level 21.

What is level 21? What does that mean?

90 viruses or more, you have to think fast and move quickly in matching the colors.

…I can see there is definitely a language barrier here.

The only barriers are when you mismatch the colors to the viruses.

Oh, I have to take this. Hello? Yes. He’s right here. Okay..I’ll send him up. Thank you.

Who was that?

That was your brother. He says you haven’t taken your medication and that you are not a real doctor. In fact, you have been applying at every major hospital along the eastern seaboard. He is coming upstairs to come get you now. Thank you and good day. 

5 Squad Cars, 4 Engines, an Ambulance and a Chief at 1 House

Loud sirens play into my music as I'm running through a quiet street, I mute myself only to see two fire trucks speeding past me. I stop to take a moment and try to see where they are going.

I resume and continue down the same street they were heading down. The track on the shuffle changes and then more red lights flash from behind. This time it is an ambulance. As I move further down the street, a series of red and blue flashes projects from a certain spot of the neighborhood I am slowly approaching. What could it be? I wonder to myself. Another fire engine horn blasts off. I turn my head to the left looking down the street parallel to me and see a large blur of more red engines speeding towards the gathering of the other lights. Seriously this must be bad if there are that many engines and a paramedic. Now I’m only a block from where they all are and now the fire chief speeds through with another engine!? As I get close enough to the scene, I noticed a handful of squad cars are there as well – closing off a section of the street they are on, centered on one house in the middle.

“Hey what are you doing?” Another runner crouches next to me as we attempt to hide behind some shrubs from a street on the corner of where the action is.

“How are there that many emergency units covering a small house in this city? Who are those in the hazmat suits?” I whisper-yell to the runner beside me.

“I don’t know, but there was something like this a couple of days ago down the street where I’m at.”

“What happened?”

“I couldn’t really tell because they…” He is interrupted as some shouting comes from inside the house they are surrounding.

               “…just take it easy…we are getting you out of your house…will take care of you…walk slowly…”

               “…I’M NOT LEAVING…THIS HOUSE HAS BEEN HERE SINCE….”

“Can you hear anything from inside there?” I ask.

“Not really, but I think they are trying to evacuate whoever is in there.”

               “…YOU COME IN HERE…AND TRY TO TAKE ME…ALL BECAUSE THAT…FACTORY OR PLANT…IS MISMANAGED…”

               “…we just want to help…please…with us…”

               “…HOW MANY OTHERS HAVE BEEN INFECTED…HOW ARE YOU...FIX THIS…”

“I heard something about a –”

“HEY YOU! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” A fireman shouts at us but then turns quickly to see the house collapse in on itself. Response teams scramble quickly as a rush of cloud vanishes everything.  

“Did this happen at the one you saw?” I yell to the other guy as we run to take cover.

No Tip, No Peace

“Here’s your check, pay whenever you’re ready.” Says the waitress as she smiles at the four young men, she winks at one of them and leaves.

“Who’s got it this time?”

“I paid last time – “

“NO YOU DIDN’T! I DID.”

“Right, you gave me the money to pay for the orders, so technically I’m covered.”

“YOU’RE FULL OF CRAP!”

“Guys, guys, guys its fine…I’ll take care of it. Relax.” The third one says as he pulls out his wallet, peeling out cash.

While they are waiting for her to come back, one of them leans in closer to the other guy who was winked at by the waitress. “I think she likes you, man. Seriously.”

“I don’t know, she’s out of my league.”

“C’mon, stop that. Y.O.L.O.”

“Did you get that from SPIKE T.V. or something?”

“NO, it means, you only live once.”

The waitress comes back smiling at the modest one, “Thank you!”

“Hey umm, my friend here is really shy and was wondering if he could get your number.” The waitress looks surprised and runs her hand through her hair. “Umm..well I have a….okay.” She concludes while slightly biting her bottom lip. She scribbles down her number on a blank ticket followed by a hiss and tear of the sheet and reaches out for the shy one to receive. She shrugs her shoulders with a smile, “Call me sometime.”

The other one raises his glass, “Oh uh, could I get a refill before we head out.” She breaks away from staring as if awakening from a trance. “..sure yeah. I’ll be right back.” She takes his glass promptly and heads towards the kitchen.

“YOU DID IT MAN, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU!” They say to him as he holds her number in disbelief.

“More like you guys did it, all I did was take up breathing space.”

“Naahh c’mon, give yourself some credit, after all you did manage to….” He is interrupted from a voicemail notice on his phone. “…shoot, I gotta take this. We need to leave here right now since I drove.” The four of them get up out of their booth.

“Oh what about the tip?” The other three search their pockets, “I don’t have any cash on me, it’s fine. 

Let’s just leave, it’s not that big of a deal.” They make their way to the exit. As the first one is about to push open the entryway to leave a shouting young woman exclaims, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME???” Everyone in the diner stops conversing and fixes their attention on the waitress (who by the way is pissed).

“NO TIP!?! Is this the way you treat your waitresses?? You just waste my time by not knowing what to order and keep having me take back your food all because the meat was too pink even though you ordered medium rare, and being loud and rude, and then having me whore myself out there for your quiet friend here??” She exclaims while slowly approaching them. The four of them put their hands up as if she were pointing a gun at them.

“Look, we apologize, seriously. None of us had any cash on us, just enough for the meal. I’m sorry.” The rest of them concur with quick nods filled with terror in their eyes. “Don’t you guys make enough in tips anyways??” The same scared man speaking for the group gets a hard slap in the back of the head from one of the guys behind him.

“Enough..in..tips??” The waitress asks him in a very dark tone. “Let me tell you just how much I make in tips and where that money goes.” She grits her teeth while pulling out a calculator from her apron pocket. “I work 10 hour days with an average of 16 customers like yourself who usually leave a two-dollar tip. Working 6 days out of the week. All that amounts to is about $200 a week just in the tips, I take home twenty percent of that – so $38!! With my base pay, it only adds up to $388. And then I have to pay the babysitter because daycare is too expensive, and then diapers, food, all because that father of his won’t pay child support!!” She escalates to more shouting. The guy with the number looks up shocked. “And yes, I have a kid! Are you okay with that or is that going to be a problem?” She firmly asks the guy holding her number. Before he can answer that, the waitress asks the man who presumed she made enough in tips. “So tell me, how much do you make?” 

She tilts her head to the side with her hands on her hips. “…umm well I’m a commercial developer and I –”

“AND YOU COULDN’T LEAVE A MEASELY TWO-DOLLAR TIP ALL BECAUSE YOU DON’T HAVE ANY CASH?? GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE! AND TAKE YOUR SCRUBBY FRIENDS WITH YOU!!”

The crowd in the restaurant cheer and whistle for the waitress as the front doors slam shut.

Progress Report - Sound Structure Excerpt

So a couple weeks back I was invited to have dinner at a friend’s house. During some of our discussions I was asked to read something from the books I am currently writing. To my friend’s defense, I was given ample time beforehand to read something days before the dinner, however as always I procrastinated what to read from one of my books plus I was very shy about it. If I had been more prepared and mustered up the courage to read something out loud, I would have felt confident to read this excerpt:

I slam the garage door behind everyone. Sierra finally catches up to me and climbs in through the driver’s side door without opening it. She slithers into the back seat and lays there wounded and nearly infected by them. I set Henry down in the passenger side and place a temporary barricade to the garage door. Thunderous poundings beat at the nearby walls and door. I can hear them so clearly, just itching to get to us. Their taunts are too real to let go. Heavy whispers dart at me, “Why are you trying so hard?” or “Just get what you want and leave everything else,” I stand there puzzled trying to register what is being said to me. Who is saying this?

  

“Tango. . .” I have never heard Sierra call out my name with such pity and weakness. “. . . I think we need to drive the car.” A couple of arms punch through the walls into the garage. “Let’s go somewhere else. . .” Sierra suggests as if she was asked what to do next on such a ‘casual evening’. 

I hear sirens from outside and the technotic beats are pulsating even louder to where I get down for cover. Henry is louder than ever as well, as he is left there crying. How did I get into this? I can’t take care of anything. Nothing is working.

Getting up and jumping into the driver's side, my right hand cranks one down on the gear lever, pulling out in reverse as the walls and door of the garage crumble down freeing the captive monsters into continuing their pursuit after us. I speed out of the neighborhood. Bodies fly up on the hood as I gun it forward. The windshield wipers smear out the dark sludge that was bled out from their eyes and mouths.  

Amidst all of this, an ongoing echo of a faded song from outside – above us, washes over the dome of the sky we are under as if high shrieks of a living being is dying slowly to a halt. Growls and snarls are ensued into the air being scratched in as I watch for more dark figures moving radically to catch up to us from my rear view mirror. 

I should be stunned with absolute horror along with my heart rate pumping in more and more adrenaline, but I proceed with my foot on the gas as I look out to see the faded emerald clouds being sucked out from the horizon, with the blackness encroaching so steadily sinking over the expanse with confident dominance. I take a peek at the folded piece of paper that the muted girl gave me while maintaining our hasty getaway. Unfolding it I quickly read out letters in misspelled crayon characters put together to create a message:  

No More Mountain . . .

The Foreigner

“So sorry for interrupting Mr. Coombs, go ahead and continue – please.” The doctor says.

“Well like I was saying earlier, I was driving down the main street which eventually turns into the state highway. I had the radio playing Waiting for a Girl like you and just like that as I was driving further down the street…. I found myself thirty years into the past.” Mr. Coombs pauses for a moment to recollect his thoughts.

“So…you were in a state of mind? Perhaps? Or was this…real?” The doctor tries to elaborate on his statement.

“No, it was real alright.”

“How did you know you were thirty years into the past?”

Mr. Coombs sits up more, “There were stores that have been closed for decades, the streets had older models parked on the sides – plus gas was only 84 cents. Even the old theater on the corner had the promotional release of the Evil Dead movie as it were the first time premiering! I even went further to get out of my car to check the dates of the newspapers which confirmed that I was for a moment physically in the 80's. How do you explain that?”

“Maybe you just happened to come across one of those vintage bookstores and the cars parked on the street were from a collector. And maybe the old theater was having a horror nostalgia night. Halloween is just a couple of weeks away." The doctor tries to rationalize.

"Out of all the days, I ride down that street, and just like that everything is all decorated for nostalgia? I don't think so..." Mr. Coombs says discouraged.

The doctor takes his glasses off and takes a breath, "Mr. Coombs, I’m afraid I can’t help you understand what all of this is. I do know that you have suffered the loss of your wife and that could partially be the reason why maybe your mind has been believing in things that you perceive to be real, but in reality are not.”

“I can’t believe I’m paying you two hundred an hour to tell me what I could’ve looked up on Google! 

Look, the fact is I was somewhere in time! Yes, that sounds crazy, but for some reason when I had the radio playing under frequency 107.1 at approximately 5:48 in the morning along Valley Blvd in Monterrey Park, I was for a moment in the year 1981.”

The doctor clicks his pen followed by scribbling on a notepad, “Why 1981? Is there a connection with that specific year?”

“Other than the fact that that song was released during that time, no.” Mr. Coombs says while laying back down.

“Let’s try an experiment with this. Try listening to a song from the 50’s and see if somehow you end up in that period while taking the same route to work.”

“I’m sorry I still don’t think you’re taking this serious. I was in another time. It’s not like I went to the grocery store and back, I went through time – no one has done that. No one could.”

“The eyes will believe what the mind perceives. Sometimes, we want something so bad that we will believe it as real as we want it to be.” Counsels the doctor with more scribbles on his notepad.

“I appreciate your time, but in all honesty, it was mistake coming here. I have to go.” 

Mr. Coombs gets up to retrieve his coat from the rack.

“Whether you decide to come back or not, please just try the experiment and let me know.” The doctor concludes as he looks up to Mr. Coombs. 

The Mountain Lion Theory

The Pacific Crest Trail, Mile 734 – 20 Miles before Crabtree Meadows, July 1995

“Okay so walk me through how you get to that sand dungeon again?” Ben asks as he is adjusting his sleeping bag.

“That game has been out for four years now, how are you just now playing it?” Mike questions him.

The third camper remains huddled in the tent while on watch out through the small tent window on anything and everything moving out there in the thick dark night.

“Ok, for the last time, Link needs to get that green book, which can be found on top of the bookshelf in the Library which is in Kakariko Village, then you read the book in front of that stone tablet and VOILA, the three statues shift around granting you access to the….” Mike is interrupted by Rick shushing them who continues to stand as the watchmen of the three.

“….did you hear that?” His voice breaks the long silence.

“All I’m hearing is you trying to prevent me from giving Ben advice on a game he should’ve finished years ago while still living with his parents.” Mike retorts.

“No, no…it sounded like paw steps.”

“Paw steps??” Ben emphasizes with grief.

Rick sits back down distressed. He has always had a lasting fear of the wildlife – especially mountain lions. He has never encountered one but has always heard stories of those hiking through the Sierra Nevada mountains only to be ambushed by them. Even with a 9MM (with or without the park’s consent), he still is shaken by the very thought of them.

“Rick, I know how you feel man. We’ve been through this before. We are a ‘large group’. Remember what the rangers said about staying in groups? Relax man..hey didn’t that Cheryl Stray write a quote about getting over fear or something back in Mojave or was it by Agua Dulce?” Mike turns to ask Ben.

“I don’t know man, but I love all of her quotes. They are so beautiful, no one talks like that anymore.” Answers Ben.

“Dude, THEY ARE GOING TO COME IN OUR TENTS AND SLASH US UP AND EAT US!” Rick yells out of panic.

“Ok, ok, Rick. Calm down man. Look we are okay, plus we are fully loaded, okay? Us-guns. Them-no, alright?” Ben tries reassuring him.

“Hey Rick, I have this theory.” Mike tries to start but is already scoffed by Ben.

“What? What is the theory?” Rick asks.

With a sigh, Mike continues, “Alright so house cats are in the same family as big cats, right?”

“Well sort of, but I don’t see where you…”

“So usually family members can sense eachother and are aware of their own kind.”

“….okay?? Where are you going with this?”

“My theory is that if you were to bring a house cat with you on a hike, the mountain lions will leave you alone. Tell me that doesn’t make sense.” Mike challenges Rick.

“….or the mountain lion will think you brought an appetizer before getting to YOU as the main course..” Rick answers very annoyed.

“I don’t see it that way.” Mike objects.

“HOW DO YOU NOT SEE IT THAT WAY??”

“But the house cat is family,”

“THAT DOESN’T MATTER! ITS NOT LIKE THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL SNIFF THE HOUSE CAT AND COMMUNICATE THROUGH THEIR WISKERS SAYING ‘HEY IT’S OKAY, THEY’RE WITH ME.’”

Ben starts to laugh, “It’s like he is getting us through bouncer security,”

“SSHHHH!”

Mount Up

Peter sits there mounted on his snowmobile, contemplating the monstrous steep hill in front of him. Jim is sitting as passenger yelling over the engine.

“Peter, you can do this! Stop hesitating!”

“Why did I ever let you talk me into this? I can’t…do this! You drive!”

Peter used to be a hill climber for tournaments worldwide however suffered a major accident leaving him almost paralyzed.

“Look, I am right here man. I’m not going anywhere. You’ve done these a thousand times. This is a hill for beginners. You need to let go and move on. It’s been ten years.” Jim tells him.

Reports of the accident revealed that it was lift from the descending winds that caused him to fall backwards and nearly get crushed. Throughout the past ten years he has been through several physical therapy sessions and has written several self-help books on “Getting back up the hill”, however has avoided the fact that he must revisit this or remain haunted by his past.

“I’M NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN! Too many times have we attempted to do this only to leave me to get us up there! I’m tired of this. You will live out the rest of your life paralyzed with fear unless you make the decision to end this now! Jim yells ferociously.

Peter’s thumb weighs in heavier than usual on the throttle causing the RPMs to slightly spike.

“BETTER ALIVE THAN DEAD!” Peter shouts

“TO LIVE IN FEAR IS TO NOT LIVE AT ALL!” Jim replies angrily

“Didn’t you get that from an 80’s movie?”

Jim slaps the back of his helmet, “JUST SHUTUP AND GET US UP THAT HILL!”

Instantly Peter crosses himself and revs up the engine, they both jerk back as the machine takes off. The skis hold their position aiming right into the heart of the slope. They lunge forward as the hill continues to move progressively vertical. Peter starts to let off the throttle however Jim holds his hand over maintaining the RPMs – it starts to look hopeless that is until they finally clear it. 

Alas the two dismount and join together in celebration of Peter’s breakthrough. Shouts and tears are shared and glory has shed itself once again on Peter as he is now liberated and has regained his confidence.

However, the snowmobile was stopped only at the edge of the hill and while the engine is still running, rolls back off the hill – leaving the two to cut short their celebration only to slide down the hill and chase after the runaway machine.