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Grand Obsession, Part 4 (Final)
(continued from part 1, part 2, and part 3)
But first there was one last step: pinholes. It was Thursday afternoon that Ed suddenly realized that he might get a few more seconds of belief out of the speeder by putting small pinholes in Harry's eyes, nostrils, ears, and a series of them across the mouth; that way the head might give way under impact in those pre-stressed areas, making the eyes and other orifices bleed (and even Ed hoped, dribble bloody sponge bits) quite realistically.
He thought he'd never get to sleep Thursday night.
* * *
Dressed in a black sweatsuit, wearing a black woolen hat, Ed crouched between a parked SUV and a pickup. The autumn night was cool. Harry was surprisingly warm in his hands; he'd considered wearing black gloves, but decided against it. He'd need full control of his hands to carry this off. The ball rested against the curb, ready to go.
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
It couldn't have been more perfect.
Blood exploded out of Harry. He tore into two pieces, his limbs flailing hideously. Ed was amazed; he knew Harry, he'd built him, and even he was horrified. Brakes squealed as the car skidded left and right, leaving bloody rubber skidmarks as it slid to a stop down the road. Harry's upper half was still on the hood of the car; his mangled legs were still mostly at the impact site. Chunks and ropes of blood-soaked sponge were everywhere.
Ed moved like a ninja along the sidewalk, staying low behind the parked cars. It only took seconds to get closer to the stopped car; he knew it was dangerous, but he could no more have stayed away than he could have flown to the moon.
The car door opened, and the driver got out. He was young, with piercings and one of those weird goatees; he looked ghost-white as he stared at Harry, who had half-slid off the car's hood.
The moonlight made everything magical.
Harry steamed from the great opening at the base of his torso. Jagged white bone jutted upward from here and there. His head was flaccid, but chunks of white styrofoam protruded from the split-open mouth. And the eyes had exploded outward perfectly. One had sponge literally protruding through it.
The driver fell to his knees in the middle of the street without a sound.
As the driver slowly rolled to his side and drew his knees up towards his chest, Ed felt a deep feeling of peace enter his soul. Now, at last, he could sleep.
* * *
At least, that's how Ed hoped it would go.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. Harry hit the car a little high; most of him hit the windshield. He split with an odd splat and bounced up over the top and behind the car.
Brakes screeched. Car doors flung open while the car was still rolling. Ed heard footsteps, shouts. He saw big, tough-looking kids and a slutty-looking girl. The girl spotted him, and shrieked, pointing.
"GET HIM!"
Ed tried to run, but he was too slow. The largest of the three boys grabbed him from behind and dragged him out into the middle of the street. As they pinned him up against the back of their car and tore into him, he felt strangely calm. Time passed, but it didn't seem to matter. Everything faded away by the time they were done with him. As they drove off, his broken body pitched to the filthy street. Face to face with Harry, Ed's last fleeting thought was an impulse to apologize.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball.
Harry hit the ground just in front of the car, bounced upwards, flipped end-over-end, and was caught in mid-air...by the red and blue lights on the top of the squad car.
Ed didn't wait a second. He started running, as fast as he could, into the darkness. Three terrifying months later he slunk into a small village in a particularly rural part of Mexico. He can be seen doing a shambling dance for drinks every afternoon, just after siesta.
But despite that, Ed is as happy as could be expected. No one in the village can afford a car.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
Or it should have. Instead the car swerved violently, and smashed at full speed into a telephone pole. The driver shot like a rocket through the windshield in a shower of glass, bouncing off the pole and landing on the street with a sodden thump.
Ed felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. From the way various parts were bent, he knew that there was no way that the driver could be alive.
He wanted to run, but couldn't help himself. Step by step, he came out into the street light to stare down at the boy. Harry lay not far away. To Ed's stunned eyes, the resemblance between the two was nearly perfect...except that Harry wasn't bleeding.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The big front grille took Harry head-first. For a moment he compressed, feet and head squeezing together, and then he exploded.
The car screeched to a halt.
A door opened. A man in a long black coat got out and stood there, mute, staring at the carnage. Ed, peeking cautiously over the back of the pickup was mystified; were boys wearing that sort of hat these days? He wasn't up on teen styles, but he didn't think so. The driver turned back to the car, bent inside for a moment, then backed out again, holding something.
The driver put the object to his head. Ed's horrified moment of realization came a fraction of a second too late; his shout was drowned out by the shot. The driver pitched sideways to the street, the hat rolling. Wispy gray hairs waved waved in the cold breeze, on what was left of the balding head. The big old service revolver lay in the gutter near the driver's outstretched hand. Numbly, Ed watched as blood dripped down the "Veteran" license plate.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
It was beautiful.
The car screeched to a halt well down the road. After a minute, it backed up towards the impact point, screeching again as it stopped. Ed suddenly realized that this wasn't a car he'd seen before on his street; but it looked oddly familiar. Back to the Future, that was it! But what was a Delorean doing on Oakdale Street?
The driver's door swung upward, and a very strangely dressed man got out. He walked over to the largest piece of Harry, looked at it for a minute...and then kneeled down to touch it.
"Oh, wow." A British accent. Or maybe Australian. The driver stood up again and started looking around. Ed suddenly realized that there was no way to avoid being seen from the driver's perspective.
"Hey, you! Yeah, you. Come here." Ed didn't know what else to do, so he obeyed.
"Did you do this?" Ed nodded.
The driver grinned, and Ed smelled alcohol.
"That was beautiful. Listen...this is a great thing you've got here. Scared the fertilizer out of me, know what I mean? Anyway, listen, I work with a reality show. Brainbusters, on The Men Channel. Maybe you've seen it? No? Anyway, this would make a hell of an episode. Hell, you might even get your own series! What do you say?"
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. Harry touched down just in time for the tires to go over him. The wheels and undercarriage tore him to pieces very satisfactorily.
The car never even slowed down.
Two days later Ed read about the suicide of an area teen. The excerpt that the paper printed from his suicide note may have mystified everyone else, but Ed knew. The next day Ed moved out of the state. His new location is a bit quiet; he hasn't found a new job yet, but he doesn't mind. He still has trouble sleeping nights, though.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
The car slowed for a minute, and then kept going. Once it was out of sight, Ed moved fast. He grabbed up every piece of Harry that he could find, dumped them on the sidewalk, then ran to his house for a trash bag. Shoving all the chunks into the bag, he dumped the bag into a garbage can out back. Then he ran into the house for a bucket of water, sluicing down the most bloody areas on the street and sidewalk. Ten minutes later everything looked pretty much normal.
Ed went into the house, took off all his clothes, and put them in the trash too. Then he took a long cold shower, followed by a warm one. Then he got dressed, took the bag of clothes and got the bag of Harry out of the garbage can, and dumped both bags into two different garbage cans on the back side of a supermarket parking lot when no one was watching.
Then he drove home and settled down to wait. And wait. And wait.
He's still waiting. And even he couldn't tell you what he's waiting for.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
The slowed for a minute, and then kept going. Ed stared in amazement. Didn't they care? Were they drunk or something?
Well, he wouldn't give up. Harrys #2 and 3 could be ready to go the next night. Ed cleaned the street and went back to stuff sponges.
The next night Harry #2 made the first flight, and it was nearly as perfect as before. But again, the car just slowed for a moment and then went on. For a moment, Ed thought he heard something...something like laughter. He gritted his teeth and went back for Harry #3.
Half an hour later, Harry #3's torso went under the wheels of a speeder, his ass exploding with a loud bang. Again, the car slowed for just a moment...but this time, Ed noticed something. This was the first car again. Car #2 had been different, but this car was the one that had hit Harry #1!
"Hey, mister!" came a voice from behind him. Ed nearly jumped out of his skin. Five mean-looking high school kids stood watching him on the sidewalk.
"We loooove your dolls," said one of them.
"Yeah, what are they, your boyfriends?" sneered another. They all snickered.
Ed stared at them, frozen.
"Okay, look," said the shortest, his voice suddenly businesslike, "we'd like to make a deal..."
The next day Ed withdrew his name from the temp agency. He and an unending string of Harrys give "performances" every Friday and Saturday night. He charges $100 per car, and clears about $5,000.00 per month, tax free. It's a good living, and the business has plenty of room to grow; the kids love the show. He's even thinking of hiring an assistant. And now, when he hears an engine roar, Ed smiles.
Even in his sleep.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
Harry's seams split lengthwise, from armpit to ankle. Steaming sponges in a great mass slid out of him. The empty and obviously fake vinyl skin caught on the windshield wiper for a moment, then blew off.
The car slowed and stopped. Ed quickly flung himself to the ground, crawled with desperate speed behind some shrubs, and took to the back yards of the neighborhood. Several times he heard footsteps, but finally, after an hour of silence, he slunk home.
For several days he shivered at the thought of the incident. But slowly the fear faded, to be replaced by a nagging thought: Harry wasn't real enough. I need something more real.
He drifted back into his old habits. As he was watching the neighborhood kids again - what was wrong with their parents? - the idea hit him: what could be more real than real? And it wasn't as if their parents cared about them.
At first he was horrified, and pushed the thought out of his mind. But it kept coming back. Ed wasn't the strongest person.
And so, six months later, came the sensational string of child-murders which have been exciting the media so much of late.
* * *
Ed woke with a start, coated in sweat. It was Friday morning. Hands trembling, he looked up a number in the phone book and called it. After booking an appointment with a psychiatrist, Ed drove to the mall and bought the best and loudest white noise generator he could afford on his credit limit. He installed it in the bedroom that afternoon. After three months of therapy and medication, Ed carefully disassembled all three Harrys and threw the components away. The chicken blood he thawed and flushed down the toilet.
He's now saving as much as he can towards first-and-last-and-security-deposit on an apartment in a better neighborhood. He's even dating; the girl he's seeing has her own issues (they met in group therapy), but she can tolerate Ed's quirks. And she drives very, very slowly.
Which is as happy an ending as anyone could expect, these days.
But first there was one last step: pinholes. It was Thursday afternoon that Ed suddenly realized that he might get a few more seconds of belief out of the speeder by putting small pinholes in Harry's eyes, nostrils, ears, and a series of them across the mouth; that way the head might give way under impact in those pre-stressed areas, making the eyes and other orifices bleed (and even Ed hoped, dribble bloody sponge bits) quite realistically.
He thought he'd never get to sleep Thursday night.
* * *
Dressed in a black sweatsuit, wearing a black woolen hat, Ed crouched between a parked SUV and a pickup. The autumn night was cool. Harry was surprisingly warm in his hands; he'd considered wearing black gloves, but decided against it. He'd need full control of his hands to carry this off. The ball rested against the curb, ready to go.
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
It couldn't have been more perfect.
Blood exploded out of Harry. He tore into two pieces, his limbs flailing hideously. Ed was amazed; he knew Harry, he'd built him, and even he was horrified. Brakes squealed as the car skidded left and right, leaving bloody rubber skidmarks as it slid to a stop down the road. Harry's upper half was still on the hood of the car; his mangled legs were still mostly at the impact site. Chunks and ropes of blood-soaked sponge were everywhere.
Ed moved like a ninja along the sidewalk, staying low behind the parked cars. It only took seconds to get closer to the stopped car; he knew it was dangerous, but he could no more have stayed away than he could have flown to the moon.
The car door opened, and the driver got out. He was young, with piercings and one of those weird goatees; he looked ghost-white as he stared at Harry, who had half-slid off the car's hood.
The moonlight made everything magical.
Harry steamed from the great opening at the base of his torso. Jagged white bone jutted upward from here and there. His head was flaccid, but chunks of white styrofoam protruded from the split-open mouth. And the eyes had exploded outward perfectly. One had sponge literally protruding through it.
The driver fell to his knees in the middle of the street without a sound.
As the driver slowly rolled to his side and drew his knees up towards his chest, Ed felt a deep feeling of peace enter his soul. Now, at last, he could sleep.
* * *
At least, that's how Ed hoped it would go.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. Harry hit the car a little high; most of him hit the windshield. He split with an odd splat and bounced up over the top and behind the car.
Brakes screeched. Car doors flung open while the car was still rolling. Ed heard footsteps, shouts. He saw big, tough-looking kids and a slutty-looking girl. The girl spotted him, and shrieked, pointing.
"GET HIM!"
Ed tried to run, but he was too slow. The largest of the three boys grabbed him from behind and dragged him out into the middle of the street. As they pinned him up against the back of their car and tore into him, he felt strangely calm. Time passed, but it didn't seem to matter. Everything faded away by the time they were done with him. As they drove off, his broken body pitched to the filthy street. Face to face with Harry, Ed's last fleeting thought was an impulse to apologize.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball.
Harry hit the ground just in front of the car, bounced upwards, flipped end-over-end, and was caught in mid-air...by the red and blue lights on the top of the squad car.
Ed didn't wait a second. He started running, as fast as he could, into the darkness. Three terrifying months later he slunk into a small village in a particularly rural part of Mexico. He can be seen doing a shambling dance for drinks every afternoon, just after siesta.
But despite that, Ed is as happy as could be expected. No one in the village can afford a car.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
Or it should have. Instead the car swerved violently, and smashed at full speed into a telephone pole. The driver shot like a rocket through the windshield in a shower of glass, bouncing off the pole and landing on the street with a sodden thump.
Ed felt as if he'd been struck by lightning. From the way various parts were bent, he knew that there was no way that the driver could be alive.
He wanted to run, but couldn't help himself. Step by step, he came out into the street light to stare down at the boy. Harry lay not far away. To Ed's stunned eyes, the resemblance between the two was nearly perfect...except that Harry wasn't bleeding.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The big front grille took Harry head-first. For a moment he compressed, feet and head squeezing together, and then he exploded.
The car screeched to a halt.
A door opened. A man in a long black coat got out and stood there, mute, staring at the carnage. Ed, peeking cautiously over the back of the pickup was mystified; were boys wearing that sort of hat these days? He wasn't up on teen styles, but he didn't think so. The driver turned back to the car, bent inside for a moment, then backed out again, holding something.
The driver put the object to his head. Ed's horrified moment of realization came a fraction of a second too late; his shout was drowned out by the shot. The driver pitched sideways to the street, the hat rolling. Wispy gray hairs waved waved in the cold breeze, on what was left of the balding head. The big old service revolver lay in the gutter near the driver's outstretched hand. Numbly, Ed watched as blood dripped down the "Veteran" license plate.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
It was beautiful.
The car screeched to a halt well down the road. After a minute, it backed up towards the impact point, screeching again as it stopped. Ed suddenly realized that this wasn't a car he'd seen before on his street; but it looked oddly familiar. Back to the Future, that was it! But what was a Delorean doing on Oakdale Street?
The driver's door swung upward, and a very strangely dressed man got out. He walked over to the largest piece of Harry, looked at it for a minute...and then kneeled down to touch it.
"Oh, wow." A British accent. Or maybe Australian. The driver stood up again and started looking around. Ed suddenly realized that there was no way to avoid being seen from the driver's perspective.
"Hey, you! Yeah, you. Come here." Ed didn't know what else to do, so he obeyed.
"Did you do this?" Ed nodded.
The driver grinned, and Ed smelled alcohol.
"That was beautiful. Listen...this is a great thing you've got here. Scared the fertilizer out of me, know what I mean? Anyway, listen, I work with a reality show. Brainbusters, on The Men Channel. Maybe you've seen it? No? Anyway, this would make a hell of an episode. Hell, you might even get your own series! What do you say?"
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. Harry touched down just in time for the tires to go over him. The wheels and undercarriage tore him to pieces very satisfactorily.
The car never even slowed down.
Two days later Ed read about the suicide of an area teen. The excerpt that the paper printed from his suicide note may have mystified everyone else, but Ed knew. The next day Ed moved out of the state. His new location is a bit quiet; he hasn't found a new job yet, but he doesn't mind. He still has trouble sleeping nights, though.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
The car slowed for a minute, and then kept going. Once it was out of sight, Ed moved fast. He grabbed up every piece of Harry that he could find, dumped them on the sidewalk, then ran to his house for a trash bag. Shoving all the chunks into the bag, he dumped the bag into a garbage can out back. Then he ran into the house for a bucket of water, sluicing down the most bloody areas on the street and sidewalk. Ten minutes later everything looked pretty much normal.
Ed went into the house, took off all his clothes, and put them in the trash too. Then he took a long cold shower, followed by a warm one. Then he got dressed, took the bag of clothes and got the bag of Harry out of the garbage can, and dumped both bags into two different garbage cans on the back side of a supermarket parking lot when no one was watching.
Then he drove home and settled down to wait. And wait. And wait.
He's still waiting. And even he couldn't tell you what he's waiting for.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
The slowed for a minute, and then kept going. Ed stared in amazement. Didn't they care? Were they drunk or something?
Well, he wouldn't give up. Harrys #2 and 3 could be ready to go the next night. Ed cleaned the street and went back to stuff sponges.
The next night Harry #2 made the first flight, and it was nearly as perfect as before. But again, the car just slowed for a moment and then went on. For a moment, Ed thought he heard something...something like laughter. He gritted his teeth and went back for Harry #3.
Half an hour later, Harry #3's torso went under the wheels of a speeder, his ass exploding with a loud bang. Again, the car slowed for just a moment...but this time, Ed noticed something. This was the first car again. Car #2 had been different, but this car was the one that had hit Harry #1!
"Hey, mister!" came a voice from behind him. Ed nearly jumped out of his skin. Five mean-looking high school kids stood watching him on the sidewalk.
"We loooove your dolls," said one of them.
"Yeah, what are they, your boyfriends?" sneered another. They all snickered.
Ed stared at them, frozen.
"Okay, look," said the shortest, his voice suddenly businesslike, "we'd like to make a deal..."
The next day Ed withdrew his name from the temp agency. He and an unending string of Harrys give "performances" every Friday and Saturday night. He charges $100 per car, and clears about $5,000.00 per month, tax free. It's a good living, and the business has plenty of room to grow; the kids love the show. He's even thinking of hiring an assistant. And now, when he hears an engine roar, Ed smiles.
Even in his sleep.
* * *
Ed waited.
A car turned onto the east end of the street and gunned its motor. With a SCREEEECH! of burning rubber it roared down. For a moment Ed panicked, and then suddenly he was icy calm, everything going into slow motion. The car was accelerating down the road. A hundred feet away...ninety...eighty...seventy...sixty...fifty...forty...Ed used the side of his foot to kick the ball out into the road...thirty...twenty...staying low, Ed threw Harry on a low arc towards the ball. The front grille took Harry when he was two feet off the ground.
Harry's seams split lengthwise, from armpit to ankle. Steaming sponges in a great mass slid out of him. The empty and obviously fake vinyl skin caught on the windshield wiper for a moment, then blew off.
The car slowed and stopped. Ed quickly flung himself to the ground, crawled with desperate speed behind some shrubs, and took to the back yards of the neighborhood. Several times he heard footsteps, but finally, after an hour of silence, he slunk home.
For several days he shivered at the thought of the incident. But slowly the fear faded, to be replaced by a nagging thought: Harry wasn't real enough. I need something more real.
He drifted back into his old habits. As he was watching the neighborhood kids again - what was wrong with their parents? - the idea hit him: what could be more real than real? And it wasn't as if their parents cared about them.
At first he was horrified, and pushed the thought out of his mind. But it kept coming back. Ed wasn't the strongest person.
And so, six months later, came the sensational string of child-murders which have been exciting the media so much of late.
* * *
Ed woke with a start, coated in sweat. It was Friday morning. Hands trembling, he looked up a number in the phone book and called it. After booking an appointment with a psychiatrist, Ed drove to the mall and bought the best and loudest white noise generator he could afford on his credit limit. He installed it in the bedroom that afternoon. After three months of therapy and medication, Ed carefully disassembled all three Harrys and threw the components away. The chicken blood he thawed and flushed down the toilet.
He's now saving as much as he can towards first-and-last-and-security-deposit on an apartment in a better neighborhood. He's even dating; the girl he's seeing has her own issues (they met in group therapy), but she can tolerate Ed's quirks. And she drives very, very slowly.
Which is as happy an ending as anyone could expect, these days.
- end -