Chapter One - The Unexplained Chapter
Disclaimer: Pirates of the Caribbean belongs to Disney.
Vincent Roberts sat down at his desk where his laptop awaited him. Swivelling in his leather chair, he opened the address bar and clicked the popular ebay website. He logged in and entered in his password. 'Twobeefpattiesonaburgerbun' a password he believed would stump the world.
"Damn, no sales today," he sighed. He scrolled through the list of items he had put up for sale.
"Why does none of this crap appeal to the public?"
Funnily enough, the only item of interest according to the number of hits, was his old textbook on alternative science. It was his trusty colleague he spent most of his spare time with while he was studying back in the day. One of the only items he vowed never to sell.
Unfortunately, Vincent wasn't in the best predicament. He had just turned 30, drowning in financial debt, unable to hold down a job for more than a month, and relied on ebay for his means of income - which wasn't doing much for him these days.
Deep in thought, Vincent picked up his coffee cup and relocated to the newly renovated living room. The smell of fresh paint was still in the air from the previous night he spent working on the doors. After all, his brother insisted that white décor gives a house that clean, classy, modern look.
He threw himself into the comfy paisley sofa and rummaged amongst the cushions for the remote. He pressed the power button.
"There better be something good on TV," he muttered.
"--abs that make you look good! Tone those abs and thighs for only four easy payments of--"
"Yeah, right," he rolled his eyes and switched the channel.
"--something to tell you." "Oh no, what is it?" "Hope, it's Beau. He's been in a terrible accident. He--"
Vincent wasn't too fond of daytime soap operas either. He glanced up at the large clock hanging above the stereo. Its hands were ticking by ever so slowly. Only two more lengthy hours to wait for lunch.
Annoyed with the lack of good programmes on television, Vincent made his way into the basement. He decided to retrieve his old textbook and take a look through for old-time's sake. It was his dream to create something amazing; something that no one had ever done before. And with the help of scientific knowledge, he thought he could achieve it.
"Vince, that dream died a long time ago, buddy," he said to himself.
He picked up the heavy book and opened it up to a random page. A few words in particular caught his attention: Warning: Do Not Attempt This Experiment. Vincent's expression changed from excitedly curious to a look of shock confusion.
"What the hell? This chapter wasn't here before…" He turned the page over and read further.
"This has gotta be kidding me…"
He couldn't believe what he was reading. Perhaps he was dreaming, or maybe this is some sort of Halloween prank. There was no way he could figure out a logical explanation.
Suddenly the phone rang, echoing throughout the house.
Vincent quickly gathered up the book in his arms, rushed into the kitchen, and picked up the receiver just in the nick of time.
"Hello, Vincent Roberts here," he greeted as he held the phone close to his ear.
There was silence down the other end.
"Uh, hello? Is anyone there?" he asked, getting a tad impatient.
Vincent looked at the Caller ID display to see if he recognised the number. 'Invalid Number' lit up the tiny screen. He'd never seen it do that before. They probably have the wrong number, he thought to himself.
"Da expeerment, Veencent," a woman's heavily accented voice replied. He could hardly understand her even though she slowly pronounced her words.
"Who is this?"
Then it was over. The line was dead.
Vincent spent the most of his afternoon mulling over the anonymous phone call. Who could it possibly be? How did they know about this random experiment that doesn't even exist? Why him?
He sat at the dining table, the textbook open in front of him. Frowning, he read over the words again.
"This isn't even possible," he said aloud.
Vincent decided to get a grip on reality by calling his older brother by two years, Patrick; also known as 'Patricia' on certain days of the week. Patrick was the kinky type with an unconventional lifestyle but Vincent could always count on him for advice. Or not. Reaching for the cordless phone, he dialed in the number hastily.
"Welcome to Patricia's sexy hotline," said the put-on feminine voice down the other end.
"You know, you should really quit," Vincent replied.
"Hey, come on, it's just a bit of paid, harmless fun. Great entertainment, right?" Patrick retorted, his usual voice back.
"Yeah. Sure. It's just… I dunno… it's odd."
"So what? I don't see how it's any different to that online computer crapola that you do. The customers don't know me - like you; I work effortlessly from home - also like you; and there's no way they could find out that I'm as straight as a line."
"Well, why couldn't you just open a straight hotline?"
Patrick sighed, "What did you call for, Vinnie?"
Vincent thought for a moment.
"Look, what I'm about to tell you may sound a little crazy. Actually… it is crazy. I just want your advice, Pat."
There was a brief pause.
"Sounds juicy. Go on…"
"I'm serious. You know that textbook I had? The one on alternative science? Something really weird happened," Vincent began, "…And before you ask, I'm not on drugs, alcohol or anything else for that--"
"Get to the point already. I have a caller on line 3," Patrick interrupted.
"I think I can transport people from the TV to right here, right now," Vincent blurted out quickly.
A long deafening silence.
"Lay off the grass, Vinnie," Patrick commented.
"No, I'm serious. This chapter just appeared and then there was this woman and--," Vincent started, then added, "I know it sounds nuts, but you gotta believe me!"
"So what you're telling me is… you think you can get me the best Christmas present ever? I'd like a hot chick, sexy, blonde--Hey, rent out a porno!"
"No, I'm serious! I dunno what to do about this," Vincent sighed. It did sound crazy.
"Have you tried it out?"
"Well, no," Vincent glanced at the book still open in front of him.
"Then how do you know it even works? It sounds like a load of pie to me," Patrick informed.
"Yeah, you're right," Vincent agreed, running his free hand through his dark hair.
"My advice: Build your invention and let me know when nothing happens," said Patrick cynically.
"You're always so supportive, Pat," Vincent sarcastically replied.
"Try Patricia's advice line next time, eh?"
After they said their goodbyes, Vincent considered the somewhat useful advice. There's no harm in trying it out. If it's a hoax, it won't work. But if it's not a hoax…