[Part Five]
(Three, fifteen, twenty-one, twenty-seven, thirty-three, and fifty-one...)
"Excuse me?" Gary asked as he crossed the street and walked up to the drive way of the middle class suburban home. The newspaper brought him here. It was responsible for his hectic schedule. And now if he didn't stop Mr. Phelps from driving off, there would be a horrific accident involving his Dodge Ram and a van full of children on a field trip from the Y. "Are you Russell Phelps?"
(Three, fifteen, twenty-one, twenty-seven, thirty-three, and fifty-one... What's taking so long I should have left Gary's body by now? I was only here for twenty minutes last time...)
"What's it to ya?"
(You have to work on your approach. You should have tried something like "Hey Russ! Remember me...?". Then you could have stalled him until the article disappeared.)
"I'm with the National Road and Safety Commission. Can I a few minutes of your time?"
(National safety commission? Why didn't you just tell him you were selling vacuum cleaners or encyclopedias. It would have had the same effect.)
"And how do you know my name?"
(You should have said you were from the Publisher's Clearing House Prize Patrol. That would have gotten his attention. People will always talk to you if you say your going to give him something for free.)
"I got your name from um... Uh..." Something behind Mr. Phelps caught Gary's eye. It was a shiny silver sticker with blue writing. "I got your name from Triple A."
(Three, fifteen, twenty-one, twenty-seven, and fifty-one... Damn... I'm missing a number what was it... I wish Gary would stop distracting me with his rescue...)
"Yeah right... I haven't paid my dues since '85." Russell chuckled. "Now either tell me what your doing here or get off my property."
(That's five million to fifty-thousand.... Damn it... What was that other number...)
"Russ..." A blond woman called from the house. "I see you haven't left yet. Can you take Kevin with you? He needs to go to the store to buy some school supplies."
(Forget about him. I've got bigger problems here. He dies it's his own fault. You've tried to warn him all ready. What the heck was that other number...)
"Awww... for crying out loud, Joyce. Can't you take the boy to the store?"
While Russell was momentarily distracted, Gary slipped the paper from his pocket and opened it to the article in question. It changed slightly. The body count seemed to have risen do to his interference. Gary's heart sunk. He caused this. Instead of three being dead it was now fourteen.
(You didn't cause this. Mr. Congeniality caused it himself... Him and that stupid cell phone...)
"No, I can't I still have a million things to do here. And thanks to your help. I have a million more things to do."
"All right! All right! Where is that boy?"
"...The accident was caused by Phelps, who witness say, was in a heated argument with someone on his cell phone. Distracted he ran a red light and slammed into a tractor trailer carrying a load of confiscated weapons to a police impound yard. After the two vehicles collided, the truck spilled it's cargo onto the street where bystander started to pick up the weapons. Most of the weapons were turned in by the end of the night but about 3 percent of the two thousand weapons are still unaccounted for. " Gary muttered quietly to himself.
(It's the phone. Grab the phone. No phone. No argument. No accident. Then we could leave and I'll hopefully get out of your body and get to buy my ticket... That is if I ever remember that last number.)
He didn't know where that idea came from but Gary followed. He snuck up behind Russell and pulled the phone from its belt clip.
"Hey! Son of a ..." Russell spun around quickly trying to grab the thief, but Gary was faster.
(There it's done. Let's just get out of here... Three, fifteen, twenty-one, twenty-seven, fifty-one ... thirty-two ... no that wasn't it...)
Gary haphazardly through the neighborhood, turning corner and hopping over fences. He was on unfamiliar territory, this being the first time he set foot in this neighbor. Out of breath, he looked back, hoping that Mr. Phelps wasn't behind him. Russell wasn't behind him, but Gary was lost.
(Three, fifteen, twenty-one, twenty-seven, fifty-one... I know it's thirty-something....)
"Get in!" The cabby pulled up next to him and flung the door open.
He didn't argue. Gary jumped into the back seat of the cab and it sped off. Settling himself in the back seat, Gary sighed loudly, just thankful that the cabby came to his rescue. "Thanks. I didn't know where I was running to."
"Not that it's any of my business, but you took a thirty dollar cab ride to steal someone's cell phone? It looks like a cheap prepaid at that..."
Gary reached for his back pocket but the paper wasn't there. He looked around frantically, for it and finally spotted it by his feet. Retrieving it off the floor, he opened it to the second page. The article was gone. In its place was an article about a new exhibit opening at the Chicago Institute of Art.
(It was thirty something...)
"Pull up to the house again." Gary asked the driver.
"Hey kid!" Gary called from the cab.
(Thirty what though...)
Kevin turned around and looked a Gary. He had remained in the front yard of his house while his father ran off to look for Gary. Gary leaned out the window and tossed the phone to Kevin. He glanced at the paper once more to make sure the article didn't reappear. It didn't. He slid back into the cab and signaled the driver to drive off before Russell returned.
"Were to now?" The cabby asked after they were safely off the block.
(This has to be some cosmic joke on me... Am I not meant to be a millionaire...?)
"Blackstone Hotel."
After an uneventful ride, Gary arrived at the hotel.
"How much I owe ya?"
"Nothing... It's on me," the cabby smiled.
"Howzat?"
"You don't remember me do you?" The cabby chuckled to himself. "I can tell by the look on your face you don't. Don't worry about it. I remember you. You saved my nephew a couple weeks ago from being hit by a car on the corner of Madison and State. I never go to thank you. You ran off after you pulled him from the street. Silly boy never looks where he's gong... Anyway, it's on me."
"Thank you very much." Gary reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty for a tip, but the cabby refused to take it.
(Hey it's his loss. Keep the money I say... Heck if you want to give your money away you can give it to me later.)
"No problem. If you ever need a ride anywhere. Just call the cab company and ask for Lou. I'll give you a discount. You take care, all right."
"Thanks again," Gary smiled and waved good bye as Lou drove off.
The unseen force returned and ejected Chuck from Gary's mind as Gary stepped out of the cab.
(It's about time...)
Chuck welcomed its intervention.
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