Chapter Three: Getting it Down
Thank you to all my few, but still there, reviewers! A story writer is no good without those who read it....and of course, enjoy it! I can't believe the nice reviews I've gotten, even though they're only 5!
Morton, his head pounding, had managed to go through atleast a hundred sheets of papers needed to be signed through a period of eleven hours. It was near three in the morning, yet he still wouldn't go to sleep. The stack looked like it had only thirty left...and that was good enough for him.
'DAMNIT!' he thought to himself. He had just spent eleven hours of his precious story time writing his name and social security number over and over and over again. He had to have had atleast three Advil's, and still the pain kept striking up his temple. Taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes briefly, he quickly got up and ran over to the small refrigerator.
Reaching inside, he grabbed a Mountain Dew and popped the tab open and took a large swallow. His stomach lurched for food, but he didn't have time to eat. Completing the paperwork was all that mattered at the moment, so for now he would have to settle with chugging down cans of caffeine.
You're gonna get caught. There is no way you can get away with this.
The voice, the one voice that belonged to the one and only true Morton, rang through his head.
"Just leave me alone!" Morton screamed at himself. Sure, he had caused it, but that didn't mean he wanted it there. Now that he was in control, he could really do without the nifty little good-boy Morton in the back of his head, wanting to come out.
His head went silent. He was fighting, and would never stop. Only when he was entirely distracted, like he had been a minute ago, could the old version start to come through. He had to concentrate always, had to practice. If he didn't, and he really did end up with a successful area for the kids...mainly gym, he would be alone for a while with them...and that's where the fun would begin. He could do many things to torture them...ones that didn't leave a mark.
He sighed to himself as he figured out a problem. It would be a little tricky for him to be able to successfully jab a screwdriver or a cut off one of their heads with a shovel without someone figuring it out. So he would become the most tolerant teacher during the day, parents and staff would love him. But come night he would follow them all around, at the clubs, parties, and mall. He would be everywhere, a new kid every night. It seemed so perfect, because the parents wouldn't believe that such an outgoing and tolerable teacher could go off and stalk their kids while they sat in fear for their life.
Morton had become extremely thoughtful and excited with the plans for his story. He raced back over to the chair and began to scribble his name on more papers in his attempt to get the papers done as fast as he possibly could.
After a couple more minutes of his top speed scribbling, it began to slow down and came to a complete stop. Overcome with exhaustion, Morton had fallen asleep, his head sprawled on top of the last six forms left for him to fill.
Waking up, Morton looked around and then stuck his fists up under his glasses so that he could rub his eyes. Realizing what he had done, he silently cursed under his breath. He had fallen asleep. He could have been done with the forms, but now that his hand had had a chance to cramp up, he had six forms left. Sure, the accomplishment was nice, but the muscles in his right wrist were so horrible, he felt as though he couldn't continue writing, but he knew he had to. For the story.
Morton, having finally completed every single form, ran out...practically skipping...to his truck. It was unbelieveable, the accomplished feeling it gave him. Soon all of those unknowing students would find themselves under the terror of their lives.
Sure, he wanted to make them feel good for his story, but that wouldn't work out. They needed to be in complete peril for the story to work...cause even the ending be a mystery to himself. That's what the outcome would be, and to him the idea seemed unbelievably...perfect.
Finding the city hall seemed much quicker than it had the other day, but he figured that was most likely because he actually knew exactly where it was, compared to the yesterday's endless search of not even knowing where in the world it was.
Figuring that they would most likely not even be close to getting his things together, he walked in to talk to a more official looking person, not some any-old kind of person who has quite a large attitude. Opening up the door, he walked in to discover that the woman wasn't at the desk, anyways. Walking up to the new blonde woman, he asked quite suavely, "Hi, I'm Morton, Morton Shooter. Do you happen to know anything about the recovering of my old files?"
"I'm sorry, but I wouldn't know such things. You would probably have to contact the person you talked to last time...assuming you have indeed contacted us. Do you happen to have a name?" the woman asked, tapping her red polished fingernails onto the wooden/marblish counter.
"Yes...er...it was Karen, I believe," Morton said slowly.
The woman at the desk raised her eyebrows. "If you can't remember the name, perhaps you best just restart your story with me."
"NO! It was Karen, I'm...I'm positive," he declared, a bit forcefully.
"Alright then, sir. Can you just wait there while I contact her?" she asked and, without waiting, picked up a phone and punching in some numbers.
"Why of course not...your majesty," Morton muttered, repressing the urge to rip out her vocal cords. Her voice reminded him endlessly of the Nanny, except maybe a bit less screechy...but it was higher, so that wasn't entirely a plus.
After a couple of minutes with the occasionally 'I know, isn't she? And oh my god, he didn't!'s she finally got off the phone and turned to him.
"She's being paged down immediately and will be here with you shortly," she said as though it didn't matter at all and turned around in her chair, continuing with her computer.
Morton just glared at her, and if looks could kill...there would be a lot of screaming and paramedics would be coming in to take out the body of a now deceased businesswoman.
Sighing as he waited for the other woman of his annoyance to make her appearance, he leaned against the counter, his elbows lying on it and he facing the other direction.
"Could you please not do that, sir?" asked the blonde woman without looking at him.
"Touchy, touchy," he rolled his eyes and turned around in time to hear the clicking of heeled shoes on marble-tiled flooring. Looking towards the staircase it was coming from, he immediately recognized Karen.
"Back so soon?" she asked him, obvious not pleased.
"I like to get my work done and out of the way," he answered back to her, shrugging.
"Right, well, anyways. I have talked to a couple of officials, and they should have it all completed by the end of today, that is, of course...if you have completely filled out all of the paperwork," Karen said curtly, as though it was some sort of trick question.
"Well, yeah. Why, may I ask you, would I come back if I wasn't finished?" Morton pointed out this completely logical fact.
"Like I know the mind of a male. Anyways, if you just come with me to one of our filing rooms, we can work on completing it there," she told him, looking at him expectantly.
"Alright, then," he nodded. "Sooner we get it done, the better it is for me."
As swiftly as she could, Karen walked up the stairs with Morton at her heels. After they had completed the staircase, she directed him through endless halls filled with doors that were labeled with numbers that ranged from the six to nine hundreds.
"Are we there yet?" Morton's smart ass side couldn't resist.
Karen rolled her eyes. "And you finished college with a degree?" she asked sarcastically.
"Oh, don't be fooled. I have brains up there somewhere," he smirked, giving her a wink. "It's just taking me a bit to find it."
"Well, once you have, stop acting like such a prick," she shot back at him without thinking about their 'kindness to customer' policy.
"Oooooh...grouchy. I know what that's like..." Morton turned his head and whispered, "PMSing..."
"I am not and I kindly suggest you refrain from making such comments," she said as she stopped at a door and turned the knob. After she stepped inside and waited for Morton, he couldn't help but shout like Jim Carrey most likely would, "In denial!"
Finally back inside the small motel room, Morton took his keys and flung them on top of a pile of dirty laundry and pulled out a little card that was in his back pocket. Grabbing the phone next to his bed as he hopped onto it, he dialed the number to the local school.
After a couple of rings, someone answered and said, "Hello, Auburndale High School. How may we help you?"
"Hi, I'm Morton Shooter. I was wondering if you have any needs for someone who specializes in sports or band," he began, wanting to hit himself for adding the last bit. He didn't know a thing about band!
"Well, first of all, do you have any experience in that area?" the woman asked.
"Yes, in fact I do. I went to college and mastered in both areas, I was told to call here by a woman named Karen at the city hall."
"Right, well, you are actually in luck. Our current gym teacher is at the moment pregnant, so we will need to replace her. She has decided she wants to move out to a more country area so she won't need to have her child grow up in the city. I think it's perfect, we can have an interview set up immediately. Does tomorrow morning sound alright?" the secretary asked him.
"Yes, it's perfect," Morton agreed, nodding his head even though he knew she couldn't see him. He was just entirely happy that he wasn't going to have to complete anything with band. Two years really wasn't enough experience at all.
"Alright, then. So far you seem like just the guy for the job, and the only one. In fact, you did mention that background with band, didn't you?"
His mood immediately dropped. "Er...yes I did, why?"
"Well...this could also help you with obtaining the job...solo and ensembles is coming up, and our music department needs help with our band area...especially brass and clarinet choir," secretary woman told him hopefully.
There was nothing in the world that could make him want to pound his head on a concrete wall than this. How did he get himself into such a mess? Sighing heavily, he turned back to the mouthpiece.
"No, of course. It's brilliant, I can do that," he lied, gritting his teeth.
"Perfect! Well, see you tomorrow morning, let's say tenish?"
"Right, perfect," Morton copied her enthusiasm, mocking her entirely but she missed it. "See you then."
Sighing even a larger sigh, he hung up the phone on the receiver and looked back at the television, which had gone out the other day and he realized all he could do was sleep.
"Well, until tomorrow, then," he mentally shrugged before breaking a grin. "That's when all the fun begins."
He had big plans for the following day, he knew he would make it in. All he needed to do now was to get prepared to make a great impression and work out his plans. If he had to tutor brass and clarinet choir, then double. That would actually come in handy, he wouldn't need to play and he could listen in to hear more about those students. It was actually beginning to seem to be one of the biggest pluses of the whole plan.
'Bingo,' he thought to himself before he drifted off to sleep, his shoes and glasses both still on.
A/N: YAY! Well, the fun stuff starts either the next chapter or the one after that, it depends how it fits again. R/R! Please?
Thank you to all my few, but still there, reviewers! A story writer is no good without those who read it....and of course, enjoy it! I can't believe the nice reviews I've gotten, even though they're only 5!
Morton, his head pounding, had managed to go through atleast a hundred sheets of papers needed to be signed through a period of eleven hours. It was near three in the morning, yet he still wouldn't go to sleep. The stack looked like it had only thirty left...and that was good enough for him.
'DAMNIT!' he thought to himself. He had just spent eleven hours of his precious story time writing his name and social security number over and over and over again. He had to have had atleast three Advil's, and still the pain kept striking up his temple. Taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes briefly, he quickly got up and ran over to the small refrigerator.
Reaching inside, he grabbed a Mountain Dew and popped the tab open and took a large swallow. His stomach lurched for food, but he didn't have time to eat. Completing the paperwork was all that mattered at the moment, so for now he would have to settle with chugging down cans of caffeine.
You're gonna get caught. There is no way you can get away with this.
The voice, the one voice that belonged to the one and only true Morton, rang through his head.
"Just leave me alone!" Morton screamed at himself. Sure, he had caused it, but that didn't mean he wanted it there. Now that he was in control, he could really do without the nifty little good-boy Morton in the back of his head, wanting to come out.
His head went silent. He was fighting, and would never stop. Only when he was entirely distracted, like he had been a minute ago, could the old version start to come through. He had to concentrate always, had to practice. If he didn't, and he really did end up with a successful area for the kids...mainly gym, he would be alone for a while with them...and that's where the fun would begin. He could do many things to torture them...ones that didn't leave a mark.
He sighed to himself as he figured out a problem. It would be a little tricky for him to be able to successfully jab a screwdriver or a cut off one of their heads with a shovel without someone figuring it out. So he would become the most tolerant teacher during the day, parents and staff would love him. But come night he would follow them all around, at the clubs, parties, and mall. He would be everywhere, a new kid every night. It seemed so perfect, because the parents wouldn't believe that such an outgoing and tolerable teacher could go off and stalk their kids while they sat in fear for their life.
Morton had become extremely thoughtful and excited with the plans for his story. He raced back over to the chair and began to scribble his name on more papers in his attempt to get the papers done as fast as he possibly could.
After a couple more minutes of his top speed scribbling, it began to slow down and came to a complete stop. Overcome with exhaustion, Morton had fallen asleep, his head sprawled on top of the last six forms left for him to fill.
Waking up, Morton looked around and then stuck his fists up under his glasses so that he could rub his eyes. Realizing what he had done, he silently cursed under his breath. He had fallen asleep. He could have been done with the forms, but now that his hand had had a chance to cramp up, he had six forms left. Sure, the accomplishment was nice, but the muscles in his right wrist were so horrible, he felt as though he couldn't continue writing, but he knew he had to. For the story.
Morton, having finally completed every single form, ran out...practically skipping...to his truck. It was unbelieveable, the accomplished feeling it gave him. Soon all of those unknowing students would find themselves under the terror of their lives.
Sure, he wanted to make them feel good for his story, but that wouldn't work out. They needed to be in complete peril for the story to work...cause even the ending be a mystery to himself. That's what the outcome would be, and to him the idea seemed unbelievably...perfect.
Finding the city hall seemed much quicker than it had the other day, but he figured that was most likely because he actually knew exactly where it was, compared to the yesterday's endless search of not even knowing where in the world it was.
Figuring that they would most likely not even be close to getting his things together, he walked in to talk to a more official looking person, not some any-old kind of person who has quite a large attitude. Opening up the door, he walked in to discover that the woman wasn't at the desk, anyways. Walking up to the new blonde woman, he asked quite suavely, "Hi, I'm Morton, Morton Shooter. Do you happen to know anything about the recovering of my old files?"
"I'm sorry, but I wouldn't know such things. You would probably have to contact the person you talked to last time...assuming you have indeed contacted us. Do you happen to have a name?" the woman asked, tapping her red polished fingernails onto the wooden/marblish counter.
"Yes...er...it was Karen, I believe," Morton said slowly.
The woman at the desk raised her eyebrows. "If you can't remember the name, perhaps you best just restart your story with me."
"NO! It was Karen, I'm...I'm positive," he declared, a bit forcefully.
"Alright then, sir. Can you just wait there while I contact her?" she asked and, without waiting, picked up a phone and punching in some numbers.
"Why of course not...your majesty," Morton muttered, repressing the urge to rip out her vocal cords. Her voice reminded him endlessly of the Nanny, except maybe a bit less screechy...but it was higher, so that wasn't entirely a plus.
After a couple of minutes with the occasionally 'I know, isn't she? And oh my god, he didn't!'s she finally got off the phone and turned to him.
"She's being paged down immediately and will be here with you shortly," she said as though it didn't matter at all and turned around in her chair, continuing with her computer.
Morton just glared at her, and if looks could kill...there would be a lot of screaming and paramedics would be coming in to take out the body of a now deceased businesswoman.
Sighing as he waited for the other woman of his annoyance to make her appearance, he leaned against the counter, his elbows lying on it and he facing the other direction.
"Could you please not do that, sir?" asked the blonde woman without looking at him.
"Touchy, touchy," he rolled his eyes and turned around in time to hear the clicking of heeled shoes on marble-tiled flooring. Looking towards the staircase it was coming from, he immediately recognized Karen.
"Back so soon?" she asked him, obvious not pleased.
"I like to get my work done and out of the way," he answered back to her, shrugging.
"Right, well, anyways. I have talked to a couple of officials, and they should have it all completed by the end of today, that is, of course...if you have completely filled out all of the paperwork," Karen said curtly, as though it was some sort of trick question.
"Well, yeah. Why, may I ask you, would I come back if I wasn't finished?" Morton pointed out this completely logical fact.
"Like I know the mind of a male. Anyways, if you just come with me to one of our filing rooms, we can work on completing it there," she told him, looking at him expectantly.
"Alright, then," he nodded. "Sooner we get it done, the better it is for me."
As swiftly as she could, Karen walked up the stairs with Morton at her heels. After they had completed the staircase, she directed him through endless halls filled with doors that were labeled with numbers that ranged from the six to nine hundreds.
"Are we there yet?" Morton's smart ass side couldn't resist.
Karen rolled her eyes. "And you finished college with a degree?" she asked sarcastically.
"Oh, don't be fooled. I have brains up there somewhere," he smirked, giving her a wink. "It's just taking me a bit to find it."
"Well, once you have, stop acting like such a prick," she shot back at him without thinking about their 'kindness to customer' policy.
"Oooooh...grouchy. I know what that's like..." Morton turned his head and whispered, "PMSing..."
"I am not and I kindly suggest you refrain from making such comments," she said as she stopped at a door and turned the knob. After she stepped inside and waited for Morton, he couldn't help but shout like Jim Carrey most likely would, "In denial!"
Finally back inside the small motel room, Morton took his keys and flung them on top of a pile of dirty laundry and pulled out a little card that was in his back pocket. Grabbing the phone next to his bed as he hopped onto it, he dialed the number to the local school.
After a couple of rings, someone answered and said, "Hello, Auburndale High School. How may we help you?"
"Hi, I'm Morton Shooter. I was wondering if you have any needs for someone who specializes in sports or band," he began, wanting to hit himself for adding the last bit. He didn't know a thing about band!
"Well, first of all, do you have any experience in that area?" the woman asked.
"Yes, in fact I do. I went to college and mastered in both areas, I was told to call here by a woman named Karen at the city hall."
"Right, well, you are actually in luck. Our current gym teacher is at the moment pregnant, so we will need to replace her. She has decided she wants to move out to a more country area so she won't need to have her child grow up in the city. I think it's perfect, we can have an interview set up immediately. Does tomorrow morning sound alright?" the secretary asked him.
"Yes, it's perfect," Morton agreed, nodding his head even though he knew she couldn't see him. He was just entirely happy that he wasn't going to have to complete anything with band. Two years really wasn't enough experience at all.
"Alright, then. So far you seem like just the guy for the job, and the only one. In fact, you did mention that background with band, didn't you?"
His mood immediately dropped. "Er...yes I did, why?"
"Well...this could also help you with obtaining the job...solo and ensembles is coming up, and our music department needs help with our band area...especially brass and clarinet choir," secretary woman told him hopefully.
There was nothing in the world that could make him want to pound his head on a concrete wall than this. How did he get himself into such a mess? Sighing heavily, he turned back to the mouthpiece.
"No, of course. It's brilliant, I can do that," he lied, gritting his teeth.
"Perfect! Well, see you tomorrow morning, let's say tenish?"
"Right, perfect," Morton copied her enthusiasm, mocking her entirely but she missed it. "See you then."
Sighing even a larger sigh, he hung up the phone on the receiver and looked back at the television, which had gone out the other day and he realized all he could do was sleep.
"Well, until tomorrow, then," he mentally shrugged before breaking a grin. "That's when all the fun begins."
He had big plans for the following day, he knew he would make it in. All he needed to do now was to get prepared to make a great impression and work out his plans. If he had to tutor brass and clarinet choir, then double. That would actually come in handy, he wouldn't need to play and he could listen in to hear more about those students. It was actually beginning to seem to be one of the biggest pluses of the whole plan.
'Bingo,' he thought to himself before he drifted off to sleep, his shoes and glasses both still on.
A/N: YAY! Well, the fun stuff starts either the next chapter or the one after that, it depends how it fits again. R/R! Please?