Remember:
(Mort's Thoughts)
//Shooters Thoughts//
***************************
' And she'll have fun fun fun, till her daddy took the T-Bird away'
The annoying jingle of a song crackled from a handset radio on the Morton Rainey's hardwood floor. A large boot kicked at it for clarity and continued on up a metal ladder humming out of tune.
"Hey! Mista Rainey?" Called out the thick New Yorker accent of the repairman, leaning up against the wooden paneling of his wall. The bulky man, clad in a blue jump suit wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and suspiciously eyed the etched in paneling that clearly read 'SHOOTER'.
"Rainey?! Hey, you listenin'?"
Up on the top loft sat Mort at his laptop, his hand propped under his chin and staring dumbfounded at his computer screen. Still amply in the brain storming stage of his next project, he was more then just agitated with this repairman's presence. But it had been three month's since his bout with Shooter and figured it about time to get rid of the awful writing upon his cabin walls.
Cringing at the man's irritating use of vowel sounds, Morton quickly stood up and stalked over to the edge to look down upon his living room. His once cozy den was now scattered with wood shavings and tools, remnants of the renovating or rather removal of Shooter's evidence.
"Wha?" Mort screamed from the balcony over the fuzz of the radio.
"Eh, you realize this new paneling doesn't match this type of wood here?" Responded the man on the ladder, his finger curiously running along the the S of the word Shooter etched in the wall.
"Yes. Thank you. I see that. I wouldn't have paid the ludicrous amount of money your demanding to have it redone if I didn't know that." There was a hiss in Morton's words that caused even the most intimidating of repairmen to flinch into silence.
"Good to see we are on the same page." He muttered through grit teeth.
Mort whipped back around to battle his computer screen once again, when his eye caught wind of a tool carelessly tossed on the steps leading down stairs.
A Screwdriver.
Involuntarily Mort smiled a wicked grin and it wasn't until the banging of a hammer against the wall snapped him out of his trance that he realized what he was doing.
(Shit. Maybe I am crazy. Hell, I know I'm crazy. But screwdrivers?)
He ran a hand through his bed head, down to the rip in the shoulder of his favorite-stripped robe, and back up to his face, which he sheepishly rubbed a few times.
// The screwdriver was your pussy weapon of choice. I prefer the shovel, Mr. Rainey. But that's just me.//
As Mort laid a foot on the top stair, he slipped and swung himself up against the wall in shock, slipping down slowly as he lost his footing.
"Not again." He murmured.
// Lets not forget who instigated this little chat. You asked. I replied. Or rather we both did, seeing as I am you.//
He continued walking along the wall, ignoring the fact that he may be getting some odd stares from the repairman.
"Liar."
// Stealer.//
"Murderer."
Mort voiced his accusations out loud, not bothering to keep them bottled up anymore. Although the cackling of Shooter in his head was now rattling, he jumped down from the steps and shuffled into the kitchen.
// He who points the finger always has three more pointing at him. My daddy told me that. Awfully ironic isn't it?//
Inhaling deeply through his nose and out his mouth, Mort all but threw himself at his kitchen sink and flipped on the faucet. Splashing the cool water in his face, he let his head hang in the basin, allowing the many corn husks piled in there to graze his face.
He had to drown Shooter out.
"I'm going back to that doctor. I'm going to get rid of you, you ..f- fucking hick!"
And that was that. No voices, just the splashing of water against the metallic sink.
Someone tapped on Mort's shoulder and instinctively he grabbed an ear of corn from the counter and turned around quickly, pointing the corn fiercely at the person.
The repairman held up his hands and choked back a laugh. "Uh. Morty, your phone was ringing. I took the liberty and picked it up. The dame said she's from the New Brunswick Psychiatric Hospital. Says its impermative. Er..imperative. Somethin like that." Lowering his ear of corn, and mumbling an embarrassed 'Thanks', Mort did a jog into the living room.
Brushing some wood shavings from his beloved couch, he tossed the ear of corn and shoved the receiver up to his ear.
"Yeah?" Clearing his throat. "Hello. That's me, Mort Rainey."
"Ah yes. Mr. Rainey." Replied the breathy female voice on the other end.
"This is Penelope Reid, from the Hospital. You spoke briefly with a Dr. Reid yesterday. Correct?"
"Yes." He squinted in thought, noting mentally the last name of Reid being the same.
"We would like you to return. After acquiring some background info on you- "
There was a brief pause and Mort's breath caught in his throat in worry.
"Dr. Reid finds it in your best interest if you be evaluated again, enrolled as a patient for further observation. "Penny was timid on the other line, unsure if she was handling this conversation correctly.
However on the other end Mort was hopeful and uneasy at the same time. No doubt the accusations of him being under suspicion by the police of Tashmore Lake had been some of that acquired information.
(But I'm innocent. No crime. No proof.)
He sighed and nodded to himself.
"Alright then. How do we do this?" Was asked hesitantly, turning his back to the staring repairman.
"Simple. You come in tomorrow morning whenever your ready and I'll take you through the steps. Personally." Penny Reid dropped her superior tone and chuckled lightly.
"You won't be alone in this Mr. Rainey. You don't plan on skipping town or anything do you?"" She asked, trying to keep the mood as conversational and cheerful as one possibly can.
//This piss-ant won't leave as long as they've got corn over at there hospital.//
"No..No nothings going to stop me from being there tomorrow morning. Promise."
// Same here, Pilgrim. Same Here.//
**************************************
YAY.
I don't know about you but there is going to be some totally Shooter revenge action and that gets me all giddy inside!
Expect our favorite nurse Penny to show and stir things up too!
Now be good readers and review.
My Evil Mort Muse gets all pissy when you don't review, now Scoot!
(Mort's Thoughts)
//Shooters Thoughts//
***************************
' And she'll have fun fun fun, till her daddy took the T-Bird away'
The annoying jingle of a song crackled from a handset radio on the Morton Rainey's hardwood floor. A large boot kicked at it for clarity and continued on up a metal ladder humming out of tune.
"Hey! Mista Rainey?" Called out the thick New Yorker accent of the repairman, leaning up against the wooden paneling of his wall. The bulky man, clad in a blue jump suit wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and suspiciously eyed the etched in paneling that clearly read 'SHOOTER'.
"Rainey?! Hey, you listenin'?"
Up on the top loft sat Mort at his laptop, his hand propped under his chin and staring dumbfounded at his computer screen. Still amply in the brain storming stage of his next project, he was more then just agitated with this repairman's presence. But it had been three month's since his bout with Shooter and figured it about time to get rid of the awful writing upon his cabin walls.
Cringing at the man's irritating use of vowel sounds, Morton quickly stood up and stalked over to the edge to look down upon his living room. His once cozy den was now scattered with wood shavings and tools, remnants of the renovating or rather removal of Shooter's evidence.
"Wha?" Mort screamed from the balcony over the fuzz of the radio.
"Eh, you realize this new paneling doesn't match this type of wood here?" Responded the man on the ladder, his finger curiously running along the the S of the word Shooter etched in the wall.
"Yes. Thank you. I see that. I wouldn't have paid the ludicrous amount of money your demanding to have it redone if I didn't know that." There was a hiss in Morton's words that caused even the most intimidating of repairmen to flinch into silence.
"Good to see we are on the same page." He muttered through grit teeth.
Mort whipped back around to battle his computer screen once again, when his eye caught wind of a tool carelessly tossed on the steps leading down stairs.
A Screwdriver.
Involuntarily Mort smiled a wicked grin and it wasn't until the banging of a hammer against the wall snapped him out of his trance that he realized what he was doing.
(Shit. Maybe I am crazy. Hell, I know I'm crazy. But screwdrivers?)
He ran a hand through his bed head, down to the rip in the shoulder of his favorite-stripped robe, and back up to his face, which he sheepishly rubbed a few times.
// The screwdriver was your pussy weapon of choice. I prefer the shovel, Mr. Rainey. But that's just me.//
As Mort laid a foot on the top stair, he slipped and swung himself up against the wall in shock, slipping down slowly as he lost his footing.
"Not again." He murmured.
// Lets not forget who instigated this little chat. You asked. I replied. Or rather we both did, seeing as I am you.//
He continued walking along the wall, ignoring the fact that he may be getting some odd stares from the repairman.
"Liar."
// Stealer.//
"Murderer."
Mort voiced his accusations out loud, not bothering to keep them bottled up anymore. Although the cackling of Shooter in his head was now rattling, he jumped down from the steps and shuffled into the kitchen.
// He who points the finger always has three more pointing at him. My daddy told me that. Awfully ironic isn't it?//
Inhaling deeply through his nose and out his mouth, Mort all but threw himself at his kitchen sink and flipped on the faucet. Splashing the cool water in his face, he let his head hang in the basin, allowing the many corn husks piled in there to graze his face.
He had to drown Shooter out.
"I'm going back to that doctor. I'm going to get rid of you, you ..f- fucking hick!"
And that was that. No voices, just the splashing of water against the metallic sink.
Someone tapped on Mort's shoulder and instinctively he grabbed an ear of corn from the counter and turned around quickly, pointing the corn fiercely at the person.
The repairman held up his hands and choked back a laugh. "Uh. Morty, your phone was ringing. I took the liberty and picked it up. The dame said she's from the New Brunswick Psychiatric Hospital. Says its impermative. Er..imperative. Somethin like that." Lowering his ear of corn, and mumbling an embarrassed 'Thanks', Mort did a jog into the living room.
Brushing some wood shavings from his beloved couch, he tossed the ear of corn and shoved the receiver up to his ear.
"Yeah?" Clearing his throat. "Hello. That's me, Mort Rainey."
"Ah yes. Mr. Rainey." Replied the breathy female voice on the other end.
"This is Penelope Reid, from the Hospital. You spoke briefly with a Dr. Reid yesterday. Correct?"
"Yes." He squinted in thought, noting mentally the last name of Reid being the same.
"We would like you to return. After acquiring some background info on you- "
There was a brief pause and Mort's breath caught in his throat in worry.
"Dr. Reid finds it in your best interest if you be evaluated again, enrolled as a patient for further observation. "Penny was timid on the other line, unsure if she was handling this conversation correctly.
However on the other end Mort was hopeful and uneasy at the same time. No doubt the accusations of him being under suspicion by the police of Tashmore Lake had been some of that acquired information.
(But I'm innocent. No crime. No proof.)
He sighed and nodded to himself.
"Alright then. How do we do this?" Was asked hesitantly, turning his back to the staring repairman.
"Simple. You come in tomorrow morning whenever your ready and I'll take you through the steps. Personally." Penny Reid dropped her superior tone and chuckled lightly.
"You won't be alone in this Mr. Rainey. You don't plan on skipping town or anything do you?"" She asked, trying to keep the mood as conversational and cheerful as one possibly can.
//This piss-ant won't leave as long as they've got corn over at there hospital.//
"No..No nothings going to stop me from being there tomorrow morning. Promise."
// Same here, Pilgrim. Same Here.//
**************************************
YAY.
I don't know about you but there is going to be some totally Shooter revenge action and that gets me all giddy inside!
Expect our favorite nurse Penny to show and stir things up too!
Now be good readers and review.
My Evil Mort Muse gets all pissy when you don't review, now Scoot!