Ganging up on Mr. Crazy
Chapter 1: Uncle Albert's release
"I can't believe they're actually setting that wack-job free!" griped a sulky 30-year-old doctor, striding huffily alongside his co-worker.
The doctor's companion was a more or less elderly man with snow white hair and a crisp, clean doctor's uniform. Both of them worked at the MIA or Montreal Insane Asylum in Montreal, Canada, which until just recently, housed a genie-crazed maniac obsessed with getting his hands on one of these all powerful beings.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm not sure what exactly was going through their heads either, but unless you want to lose your job I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself, eh." his friend sighed, trying to recall if this was the 43rd or 34th time he had heard this complaint.
This quieted the younger man as he was annoyingly reminded of the time he had almost got the boot.
"I only wanted to see if the crackpot would try to get through the 5 inch plexi-glass wall, behind which sat one of his so-called 'genie lamps'!" he pouted, narrowing his eyes and folding his thin arms.
The elder man just shook his head sadly. "Poor rookie."
Scene changes to a week later (the day of Albert's release)
"Well Uncle Albert, only an hour before you're outta here for good."
The slow, deep voice jerked Albert Crocker back to reality. The speaker was his protective cell attendent who over the years, had taken quite a liking to the Canadian Crocker. So much so, that he had even resorted to calling him Uncle Albert as a term of endearment.
Resisting the strong urge to laugh maniacally, Albert smiled a somewhat menacing smile. He had come to a conclusion--Fake 'em out! Whether you want to believe it or not, Crocker was actually alot less insane than everyone thought. Sure he spazzed quite a bit and it was definitely true that he wanted a genie more than he cared about his own life, but he could still think clearly enough.
'Fools!' he thought maliciously, 'I've finally convinced them that I'm sane enough to be sent back home, (which is good because I think I left the curling iron on) and when I do I'll at last be able to rub those 3 lamps, and prove once and for all that-GENIES EXIST!!!' only able to jerk and twitch inside his own mind now, at the risk of being sentenced again, Uncle Albert sighed and slapped on what he hoped to be a sane yet excited grin.
"I know, I can't wait to get back to my log cabin and...erm-NOT even give a thought to...genies...eheh." he started to sweat. 'Oh poopie, that sounded SO obvious!' berating himself, he peeked at the cell attendent's expession but Albert did'nt need to worry, because the slow-witted attendent did'nt seem to even have noticed his stammering and if he did he refused to show it.
Smiling blissfully, he said "Promise me you'll keep in touch Uncle Albert, I wrote my phone number on the back of your straightjacket. You know they'll let you keep that after your released as a souvenir,"
As the attendent rambled on and Albert pretended to listen as he always did, the MIA's white van pulled up outside. A large, African-American man got out of the driver's seat and a moment later he heard the door close on the passenger's side. A much skinnier man with blonde hair stepped up beside his companion. Usually bearing heavy sedation needles, these two workers were here to take the once presumed crazy Albert Crocker back to his sole cabin in the woods of Montreal-AFTER all the legalities had been preformed of course. Papers needed to be signed and restraining orders were needed to satisfy those who had sued some years before, but after that he was free.
"I can't believe we drove all the way from Dimsdale just to take some walnut home." Whined the blonde man in a nasally and irritating voice. He and his partner were called out to Canada because the usual workers who would've taken Crocker home were sick, and this dynamic duo were the only ones available who could handle the job-plus they had been offered a LARGE amount of cash, which is probably the only reason they agreed to the task in the first place.
"I'd rather be chasing Adam West, that guys much crazier--and he still does'nt want to go nigh-nigh!" The bigger man just shrugged his shoulders and replied,
"I still can't get over the fact that they're allowing him to keep his lamps. I mean, even if he is'nt crazy, would'nt that bring about a relapse or somethin'?"
His partner rolled his eyes. "Ahh, who cares let's just get this over with!"
scene changes to a court room where Albert is about to be officially released...
WHAM!!!!!!! The judges gavelin broke the awkward silence of the jury.
"Albert Crocker, you are hereby free to go, as long as the rules of the restraining orders are abided by and no more complaints of a loony old guy in a log cabin are filed!"
scene changes again to Albert's cabin with the MIA's white van cruising out of sight...
Uncle Albert stood in his doorway watching and waved gleefully, if only to humor them until they were out of his life for good. Turning back into his modest home, he headed quickly toward the mantle at the top of which glowed his most prized possessions. The golden and traditional lamp of a genie, with the long spout, the crimson bottle corked with a jeweled stopper, and his latest aquired lava lamp who's violet lava bounced jauntily inside.
As he let out a long-denied maniacal laugh, he saw something out of the corner of his eye and let out a gasp.
AGGH!!!! EGAD, I DID LEAVE THE CURLING IRON ON...EH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!