Mr. Monk and the Voodoo Curse
Ever been decapitated? Me neither, thank God! But I almost was...kinda. It's a long story. A long, very scary story.
It all started when a poor old woman was killed when she was struck by a baseball hit by a kid in a little league. A few days later, some relatives found a package in her home that contained a voodoo doll with the lady's name and a baseball glued to the doll's head. Needless to say, that's more than a little weird. Then, it happened again with a man who'd been struck by lightning. By this time, I couldn't take it anymore. I was a nervous wreck. I hated the case so much, I just had to get out of there. I booked myself and Mr. Monk rooms at a fancy hotel as far away as possible and tried to coax him to come. I even pretended to call the Captain so I could get his pretend blessing for Mr. Monk to leave the case. Of course, the ace detective was quick to figure out I was lying and I was forced to take him to yet another investigation scene. At that point, I was willing to quit rather than go inside and see another doll!
Okay, so I know I'm usually the level headed one. It probably doesn't make sense for me to be so irrational. Mr. Monk didn't understand it either. You see, a voodoo priestess told me that I would lose Mitch if I didn't warn him he was in danger. That was the day before he was shot down. So can you blame me for hating voodoo so strongly? To make matters worse, one more doll was delivered...to me. The doll had my name on it and was decapitated! It absolutely sent me over the edge. I've never been so scared in my life. I refused to leave my house. I could barely sleep. I even wore one of those doggy funnel things! All I could think about was what would happen to Julie.
Thankfully Mr. Monk remained level headed. He was unsympathetic before he knew my history and before the doll arrived, but it's amazing how quickly he stepped up to the plate after the fact. He promised me that nothing would happen. I had a hard time believing him, but I definitely felt a little bit safer with him around. Not much, but a little. At least he knows better than to bite the heads off of gingerbread cookies. Mr. Monk was determined to find the creep who was sending the dolls. Sure enough, it was all intentional, just as Mr. Monk assumed. Unfortunately, I almost didn't realize it until it was too late.
A voodoo priest came to my house to "unhex" me, but in my state of mind, I went and drank a concoction he made and Mr. Monk had to call 911 immediately. When t I was rushed off in the ambulance, Mr. Monk followed behind with the voodoo priest. Thank goodness he was following! The paramedic was the killer! I could barely see straight and here I was fighting for my life in an ambulance! It was a million times scarier than any voodoo doll. Mr. Monk must have figured it out too because the ambulance was rammed and we came to a crash. Before I barely had time to blink, the ambulance doors opened and there was Mr. Monk! I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see him in my life. I fell straight into his arms without any thinking twice. It was the safest I'd felt since the case began.
I have to admit. Mr. Monk surprised me. He did everything he knew how to help me. He hired that guy because he knew I'd be better off thinking rationally again. He even got in that same guy's van in order to follow me to the hospital. He didn't even wait for the Captain. The paramedic's theory was that Mr. Monk cared so much about me that if anything happened to me it would throw him off of her trail. I know he says it was only a theory, but I can't stop thinking about it. I think she might have been right...
-Natalie Teeger