The above is Rembrandt's The Storm in the Sea of Galilee. It was stolen from Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum (Boston, Massachusetts) in 1990. Today it is worth $300 Million with other pieces of art for anyone who finds the culprits or the painting(s). More info is in the linked picture, provided by our trusty FBI. Anyway, Rembrandt and his painting are featured in my newest comedy/thriller.
It involves experimental government grade drugs. Now while feeling like an acid trip, the reasons for certain things that happen are... Grim. Here's the beginning, enjoy!
****
He saw an awkward event on the morning of February 7 and knew from then on his day would be awkward. By his third bite into Froot Loops something licked his toes. It felt irrevocably wrong. Nothing should have been in the house with him when all doors were locked. Nothing should have been nibbling on the in-grown toenail of Big Loss.
Big Loss was his left big toe. Big Render was his right big toe.
Dewey dropped the spoon he was holding. Milk splashed his arm and dirtied the faux-birch table. A fruity green ring landed on his upper leg. The cold trail it left behind seeped through his jeans. He peered farther down below the table’s edge and scooted back. His un-welcome guest looked up at him with beady eyes.
“How did you get in here?”
“You smell funny!”
Dewey felt nauseous. His vision swayed. The miniature poodle with a European accent did circles across the edge of his vision. He gripped the table to hold steady. “How did you get in here?” Dewey asked again.
The dog cocked its head and the tiny lips seemed to frown. It had grey fur with a black splotch on its right ear. He waited a moment for the swimming to stop.
When it did and the dog still hadn’t answered he slowly got scooted back and stepped from his chair. “What are you doing?” the dog asked.
“Making a wall,” he mumbled. His lips barely pressed together.
“A wall,” the dog mocked.
“A call,” Dewey corrected. He dug around in his jeans pocket for the cell phone. “I’m only going to ask this once more. How did you get in here?”
The dog blinked at him. “I dunno,”
“How the hell do you not know? You’re in my house, every door is locked, and every window is shut. You shouldn’t be here… Creep,”
“Is that what scares you the most? I mean no harm; I just don’t know how I got here.”
Dewey hated liars. He said nothing and flipped the phone open, scrolling down the five names of his contact list until it reached Georgia. Something was vibrating at his left knee. It quavered higher up his leg. “Uh-oh,” the dog said. Dewey thought he heard Scooby Doo’s ruh-roh!
He pressed the call button. His vision swooned. The table reached out to his face. Dewey yelped and jerked away as the phone was answered. “Hey Dewey, how’s it going?”
“I…” a pressure was building up in his chest. “I… I can’t breathe.” He stumbled into the chair with a pained moan. “Help please…” he gasped out. “I can’t feel my legs.” They were numb, splayed out in front of him and almost touching the sink cabinets. A black wave passed over his vision. He couldn’t see anything. “I’m blind… I…”
Something clattered loudly on the floor he couldn’t see. He heard a tinny voice. It was surprisingly loud and at a distance. “Dewey, Dewey, listen to me! Dewey, are you there honey? Dewey!”
And then there was nothing at all.
It involves experimental government grade drugs. Now while feeling like an acid trip, the reasons for certain things that happen are... Grim. Here's the beginning, enjoy!
****
He saw an awkward event on the morning of February 7 and knew from then on his day would be awkward. By his third bite into Froot Loops something licked his toes. It felt irrevocably wrong. Nothing should have been in the house with him when all doors were locked. Nothing should have been nibbling on the in-grown toenail of Big Loss.
Big Loss was his left big toe. Big Render was his right big toe.
Dewey dropped the spoon he was holding. Milk splashed his arm and dirtied the faux-birch table. A fruity green ring landed on his upper leg. The cold trail it left behind seeped through his jeans. He peered farther down below the table’s edge and scooted back. His un-welcome guest looked up at him with beady eyes.
“How did you get in here?”
“You smell funny!”
Dewey felt nauseous. His vision swayed. The miniature poodle with a European accent did circles across the edge of his vision. He gripped the table to hold steady. “How did you get in here?” Dewey asked again.
The dog cocked its head and the tiny lips seemed to frown. It had grey fur with a black splotch on its right ear. He waited a moment for the swimming to stop.
When it did and the dog still hadn’t answered he slowly got scooted back and stepped from his chair. “What are you doing?” the dog asked.
“Making a wall,” he mumbled. His lips barely pressed together.
“A wall,” the dog mocked.
“A call,” Dewey corrected. He dug around in his jeans pocket for the cell phone. “I’m only going to ask this once more. How did you get in here?”
The dog blinked at him. “I dunno,”
“How the hell do you not know? You’re in my house, every door is locked, and every window is shut. You shouldn’t be here… Creep,”
“Is that what scares you the most? I mean no harm; I just don’t know how I got here.”
Dewey hated liars. He said nothing and flipped the phone open, scrolling down the five names of his contact list until it reached Georgia. Something was vibrating at his left knee. It quavered higher up his leg. “Uh-oh,” the dog said. Dewey thought he heard Scooby Doo’s ruh-roh!
He pressed the call button. His vision swooned. The table reached out to his face. Dewey yelped and jerked away as the phone was answered. “Hey Dewey, how’s it going?”
“I…” a pressure was building up in his chest. “I… I can’t breathe.” He stumbled into the chair with a pained moan. “Help please…” he gasped out. “I can’t feel my legs.” They were numb, splayed out in front of him and almost touching the sink cabinets. A black wave passed over his vision. He couldn’t see anything. “I’m blind… I…”
Something clattered loudly on the floor he couldn’t see. He heard a tinny voice. It was surprisingly loud and at a distance. “Dewey, Dewey, listen to me! Dewey, are you there honey? Dewey!”
And then there was nothing at all.
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