of good natured optimism, certain to drive even the most calm and sedate person to fits of extreme rage, a disease which had brought ruin to the Earth again and again, as far back as recorded history itself? Even the extermination of the dinosaurs has been blamed on Austaditis Nervosa. Only one man alive knows much about Austaditis, The fabled Wade Dickey, DBM. I must meet with him immediately.
I arranged to meet Dr. Dickey that evening, and none to soon, for Jason was deteriorating rapidly, sitting in the corner drawing bad pictures of hockey players. Michelle was sedated in her room, so I felt it safe to leave the institute for a few short hours. I arrived a the good doctor's house and was ushered into the study by his manservant Roger.
Not wanting to alarm Dr. Dickey, I asked nonchalantly, "Have you ever heard of an instance when some person attempted to enter another's dream, only to meet a terrible apparition of Jeff Austad?" "The old Austad myth, eh? I'm surprised you believe in such drivel. Exterminated the dinosaurs, indeed. A game of Missile Command, perhaps?" And Dr. Dickey began to rummage in his pockets for some quarters. "But Doctor," I cried, "I've seen him! A horrible creature! Heh, heh, I feel good today. Its maddening." But Dr. Dickey shrugged it off. "There's no need to worry, but I'll explain the legend anyway. Assuming it is possible at all to enter another's dreams, only if three different people enter the same mind within a very short period of time, 24 hours I believe, will the Austad apparition be brought into physical being in our dimension. Not too likely, I should say. Has anyone else been meddling with this subject of yours?"
"One other," I replied. Wade's forehead began to sweat, and he dropped the light bulb he had been preparing to change. "Are you mad! Dealing with the unknowable is the devil's work. The Austad apparition is unstoppable. If he's unleashed on this world, there is no telling what will happen. Does anyone else have access to your dream melding device?" I explained briefly about Michelle and Shirley, emphasizing that Michelle was sedated and Shirley was fairly stupid. He seemed to relax a little, and turned on the television.
As we sat watching the local news, Dr. Dickey discussed the entire Austad myth, as he called it. "The Black Plague was his, you know. Sure, it's blamed on rats, but that was a decision of the Pope, to cover it all up. And William the Conqueror's victory at Hasting, was the result of unleashing just a small amount of the Austad apparition on the psyche of Harold, unnerving him quite a bit and making him an easy target. That was nearly disastrous for William as well, for it isn't easy to control the Austad once it is unleashed. Thank God we will be spared his coming this time, but be warned: Austad is tricky. He gives a taste of the good life, or so you think, and then destroys the one's who brought him forth in really horrible ways." I hadn't told Wade about my experience, or the money in my pocket, and I shuddered slightly.
At that moment, the weatherman came on. And it was Jeff Austad! "Heh, heh. I feel good today. How do you feel today, Dr. Dickey? Good, I hope, because I'm coming to get you. You escaped me once, but not again." Wade screamed and ran from the room. I never saw him again, but his parting words to me were "Listen to my tapes. They reveal the secret of banishing him back to his own dimension." But where were the tapes? And did I have time to find them before
the new night time version of Wheel of Fortune came on? A day without my daily dose of "Here's Vanna.." was like a day without sunshine. And that would be a cold day indeed.
I quickly stepped up to the TV prepared to turn it off and at least banish the evil apparition from my sight, but I then noticed that the Austad had shifted his attention to me while buttoning and unbuttoning his sweater in a most heinous fashion. His image then looked me in the eye and said, "Let us not be too hasty doctor, there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you before you leave." what could I do? I was frozen like a helpless little birdie before the cobra's mesmerizing glare. All I could think about was how I was now certainly doomed. Where was my own personal Rikki-Tikki-Tavi to rescue me?
"First of all doctor, I would like to thank you for making my re-emergence into this world possible. Not since that fool William the Conqueror has any dared to mess with me. Secondly, I was wondering if you had any change you could spare, it seems I don't have enough money for a Snickers( and a Coke(.... What am I saying? Stop righ..."
It was then that the spell was broken and I was able to shut off the T.V. What had happened? He had had me completely under his spell when suddenly the Austad had transformed from the hideous monster capable of devouring galaxies to a simple presence, albeit an insidiously evil one. I had to explore this, I had to find the tapes Dr. Dickey had spoken of, I had to find a way to neutralize Dr. Frankensteen and Shirley, but most of all I had to get home in time to watch Vanna spin. It was getting to be too much. I could feel the pressure of these may different desires building inside of me. I needed a form of release.
Not wasting another moment I rushed out to my car to go looking for Dr. Dickey, not knowing (as the reader does from his omniscient viewpoint) that I was to never see him again. I began my (futile) search in one of the Dr.'s favorite haunts "The Big E's Coffee Bar", where Dr. Dickey was a regular. "Have you seen Wade lately?" I inquired of the saucy tart behind the bar. She looked at me sidelong and said "No, he hasn't been in today. Business is actually pretty slow, what with half the regulars coming down with colds."
"Eureka" I shouted (or something very much like that). "That's how you defeat the Austad apparition, with the use of...
contaminated cafeteria food." The prevailing modus operandi of the Austad apparition has been to spread an infectious disease throughout the continent. Could it be possible to battle the titan of tenacity with his own bad medicine? If the illness he spread was so vile that even he was forced into a dormant state, maybe this could be used in the strategy for his defeat. I must confirm this theory with the contents of Dr. Dickey's tapes. But first I directed my auto for the nearest bowling alley.
The appearance of Jeff on Dr. Dickey's TV confirms that he is still an apparition, capable of surfacing anywhere, anytime. Thus the 3rd encounter still has not occurred, postponing what seems as the inevitable unleashing of Austaditis Nervosa and the destruction of civilization (or at least a comprehensible sports page) as we know it.
My quest was to find "Big Al", the personal video manager to the Dr. A consultation with Big Al may lead to a way to block the apparition from using electronic media as a propaganda tool, while I searched for the tapes. It wasn't long before I located him on a planet hunt at the second establishment I stopped at. I still had a few minutes before I turned on Channel 4, so I began bombarding Al with all the information I had, hoping his brain could dissect the key parts of what I had babbled.
"Damn slugs. You got to watch these kids all the time," were the first words he uttered. Secret code, I thought? "Well I'm not quite sure if he can be blocked. There's an old machine back at the warehouse that's collecting dust. I don't know what it's for, all I know is that it's over 200 years old and accepts drachmas. I'll look into it. As far as tapes go...."
It was time. If I didn't catch it now, I'd have to wait until I got home to see the recorded version. I quickly ran into the lounge, tuned in channel 4 and heard the announcer say: "Heh, heh. I feel good today. How do you feel?" A chorus of "Good, too" came from the catatonic patrons. "And now here's your hosts, Jeff and Vanna!" I couldn't believe it. There he was. Right next to her as she spun. I was so astonished I even missed her twirl. Dejected I headed back to Big Al. This time he was performing surgery on the bubble hockey's goalie.
"O yes. Damn slugs. You got to watch these kids all the time. As far as the tapes go, maybe he stored them on a chip hidden in one of his machines. He did order some special work one time. You might try........
checking out his garage. I know he was working on some secret government lawn maintenance project there." I thanked Big Al and went hurrying back to Dr. Dickey's home. But I was too late.
The house was in flames, flames which seemed to be concentrated in the garage area. And they burned such a pretty blue, too. I rushed nearer, hoping beyond hope to be able to salvage something from the wreckage. Then I stumbled and fell to my knees. There are times in one's life you think that perhaps there is a God, one who really cares about the good of mankind and the preservation of life as we know it. It felt that way now, and turned back to see what I had stumbled over, fully expecting it to be a fire box thrown from the conflagration containing the tapes, tapes that would guide be to the solution to the Austad problem.
Instead I found the manservant Roger, horribly horribly burned, writhing in pain on the ground, and with each agonizing contortion of his body more tattered flesh was sloughed off. A miracle that any human being could live through such torment. I bent closer to hear his fateful last words...but there was nothing. Apparently the movements were just the muscles contracting. What a shame. But then I noticed something clutched in his right hand. Not daring to even breathe, I bent closer and pried his charred fingers open.
In the palm of his hand was a key like I had never seen before, and hope to never see again. A human skull, shrunk down by some unnatural force to the size of a penny, was connected to shaft of metal unlike any seen on this earth, with mystic runes etched on both sides. could this be the secret of the apparition? Aliens from another planet? I shut my eyes against that terrible thought, and wished I was home in Nebraska watching the all-weather channel.
But when I opened my eyes again, I realized that it was just a bus locker key, and my imagination had run wild. Sorry about that. I now had three choices: find the locker, go visit Michelle, or start over at the top of the page. I decided to visit Michelle. Maybe she was coherent enough to shed some light on the whole affair. I hurried back to the institute.
Michelle greeted me at the door. This was a bad sign, since I had injected here with the Strontium 90, the newest thing in experimental drugs. Most subjects didn't have the strength to breathe, let alone meet their doctor at the door. "Good evening Dr. I'm sorry, I don't recall your name." And she swirled, that's right she literally swirled down the hallway, tossing glitter in the air. I quickly checked back through my notes realizing to my horror that I couldn't remember my name, hoping I had written it down somewhere. But I couldn't find it. I felt Austad's psychic noose tightening around my neck, the mental rope fibers digging into my skin. Was I losing my mind?
"Come, Doctor," Michelle called, tossing streamers my way, "join the party, won't you? All our friends are here." Her light blue cocktail gown reflected the light beautifully, or was I just seeing blue? Was Michelle's weakness possessing me, too? Michelle sashayed through the doors to operating room 3, my favorite. Did she know this, having the party there as a present to me?
I pushed open the doors, afraid to find out. To my horror I saw Shirley and Jason (Frankensteen) dressed up like Raggedy Ann and Andy. Michelle offered me some champagne and...
I greedily gulped it down, never having had the opportunity to drink the bourbon that I had grasped for earlier. She led me into the revamped operating room that had been radically changed to resemble a musical stage complete with trap doors, foot and stop lights, and a cheesy background that was supposed to resemble Las Vegas. You could tell it was Las Vegas because of the uniqueness of the architecture, particularly Bob Stupak's Vegas World. Currently Jason and Shirley were doing some horrible musical number that involved much flopping of the arms and gyration of the head.
I was horrified and bewildered by the strange tableau before me. Then something registered in my addled brain as I watched my former colleagues caper about the stage. Something about what they were singing seemed eerily familiar. Then I caught the frightening words.
"No you can't." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "Yes I caaaaaaannnn." Then the horrible chorus stopped and the two began to dance feverishly again. Michelle watched this all with a beaming smile engulfing her face while rocking slowly back and forth in place.
Naturally I bolted from the room having seen all that I needed to see. Jason and Shirley (or should it be Ann and Andy) were performing the same act that I had witnessed earlier in Michelle's dream being performed by Linda Lavin and Bonnie Franklin (really, you can look it up). There had to be something significant in that fact. Linda and Bonnie had been the only two non-Austad's encountered while in Michelle's dream. What was there about them that had called them forth to be in the dream sequence? Perhaps something about them also held part of the key to defeating the Austad menace. But what? And how? How did the ragdoll transmutation of Jason and Michelle fit into all this? There were still too many loose ends to be tied up by enraged Bolivians so I needed someplace to think and organize my thoughts.
While these thoughts had run through my brain I had been walking the entire time towards my car. I could see it sitting in its accustomed spot (had it always been that particular shade of blue?), close to the building in the finest reserved slot at the entire institute. A new resolution came over me as I looked upon the most coveted of parking spots. Things had to be solved soon. There was no way that the Austad menace could force me to give up a parking spot this good. I got in my car and for the sake of my own tenuous sanity I turned down the radio prior to starting the car in case Austad was lurking in the ether waiting for an opportunity to pounce. I then made the obvious choice and decided to head to Ground Zero, a favorite restaurant and watering hole of mine. Perhaps something there would allow me to organize my addled thoughts into some semblance of a solution.
The restaurant was the same as always, raucous and seedy. Just the kind of place to piece the puzzle together. No sooner had I walked in when I noticed something wrong. Instead of the normal satellite feed of mindless sporting events from around the world, the T.V.s in the bar were instead showing....