Chapter 9
Lucid
Somewhere on the Canadian road
March 11, 1987 (Wednesday)
The house was red brick and with white window shutters it looked like a postcard from New England. There
were a few inches of snow on the ground. It went up to his calves, but there was no cold to the snow.
He took off his glove and put his hand in the snow. It didn't feel like anything, it wasn't warm nor cold.
Great.
This again.
There was a dog house also made of brick that matched the main house next to the
two-car garage, but there was no canine friend to be found.
What's the point of this?
He went in the house, it was once lived in, there was a stereo in the foyer with big long speakers. There was a
yellow post-it note on the Barbra Streisand album, Lazy Afternoon
That record sleeve was on top of the one speaker, the record on the player.
S,
Gone to the store.
xo – J
Okay, if it's anything it's Houses of the Holy. Not Barbra Streisand.
He went through the odd mix of albums.
Abba – Arrival
The Who – Who's Next
Paul McCartney & Wings – Band on the Run
John Lennon – Mind Games
Captain and Tennille – Love Will Keep Us Together
Here's the next post-it note
S,
Still at the store. Car broke down. Will you pick me up?
xo - J
The last album in the stack, Led Zeppelin – Coda
Where were the rest of the records? He opened the cabinet that rest of the vinyl were supposed to
be in and all of the little yellow post-it notes came flying out as if they had weight to them.
This was new.
Fuck.
Why are you leaving me at the store?
My car is broken down.
Don't you love me anymore?
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
Changing the course he went up the green-carpeted stairs where he could hear static from the TV in their
bedroom. It was the white snow pre-digital age effect from when the TV stations lost their reception.
You hate me.
She sounded like she was embedded in the walls and her voice went all in a deep rumbling slow version
like a 45" record on a 33 1/3 setting.
Why didn't you help me?
Why didn't you save me?
Still at the store – trying to find your stupid cereal.
Pick up the kids at the dentist.
Can't you do that?
You want to wake up, but what if I don't let you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
I hate you.
You think it's fair that you still get to be alive…
You don't deserve to be alive.
You have the face of a killer.
Hyde opened his eyes and clutched his pillow. He took a deep breath and wished his heart would stop beating
so fast. It took a moment to gather his thoughts. He was on a tour bus and it must have been past 4 a.m.
because there were no groupie moans or the sound of bottles and cans clinking to be heard.
Nor was there a smoke filled haze. Of course there were a few guys that preferred coke. He turned on the other
side to make sure that he was alone.
Sid was asleep on the floor next to him. He had no memory if he did have faceless and loveless sex,
he didn't drink that much, not compared to the guys in the band. Hyde never wanted to lose control and he
hated those lucid dreams, he could only change the locations somewhat, but the results were always the same,
Jackie needed to be picked up from the store and she had to remind him that he deserved to die and that
he had the face of a killer.
Did Jackie really feel that way?
Did she really think he abandoned her?
One of her stressors was sometimes, not purposely (Forman did this to a lesser extent), would twitch in his
presence. They didn't see him, the person they knew since childhood, they saw the sinister one. The killer, the
psycho, the destroyer of everything he held dear including his own sanity. There was a small paper bag in the
drawer under his bunk.
The type that a kindly elderly person would put penny candy in at the five and dime, that's when he
didn't steal it. His brand of misdemeanors and felonies were almost nothing, it's not like he ever once thought to
rape and murder. He wasn't evil and no matter how often he tried to change his outer appearance, he still
felt that he looked disturbing.
It must have been Edna's pretty blue eyes….Mrs. Forman would always try to make lemons out of lemonade.
How he missed her so.
It really was the right thing for everyone involved to have him go away and be out of their lives.
Inside the bag, was a small clear plastic baggie, always a good thing. At least this band didn't have a reputation
for being on law enforcement's radar, he hated the cops, but when you desperately needed one, they were
having donuts and coffee 3 blocks away. Don't look for any odd behavior in the neighborhood. There were his 2
laminate passes and a small clear plastic box the type that could hold a deck of playing cards. There was a note
on them, a yellow post-it note. He half-expected it to be from Jackie demanding that he pick her up from the
grocery store. All it said it was in unfamiliar writing, you might be interested in these.
Killer Kardz
From the title card he should have known better than to look through the deck.
The Familiar:
Ted Bundy, scheduled to die on death row.
John Wayne Gacy, He had his photo taken with former First Lady Carter.
Charles Manson, why was he always listed? He wasn't a serial killer. He was a brainwasher who used drugs and mind
control techniques to have others do his dirty work for him in order to start a so-called race war.
Still he had his place in the deck of Killer Kardz, with a "K" and a "Z" so you would know it was authentic.
Who would sell these cards, but most importantly who would buy them?
Why were they glamorized as if they were celebrities?
They had fans; he knew about this underworld, he used to read all of the letters that came down the pike, were
they from damaged souls like his other half or from perfectly normal people? Perfectly normal people don't think
serial killers are cool. He remembered the one letter addressed to him, on yellow lined legal pad paper, written
in black crayon.
Awesome work.
Yeah it was so awesome that Fez, Kelso, Laurie, Donna, and indirectly Red and Jackie were all dead before their
time thanks to his brother. That was so awesome. Himself, Eric, and Kitty were suffering through their own
existences because what his twin did was so fucking awesome.
People fucking sucked.
Most them anyway.
He almost forgot about his mother, Edna wasn't a saint before and she wasn't going to be a saint after. He was
sorry for what happened to her, but that was it. There was also that foster family in Baltimore, Maryland. They
did exist and their murders were not awesome. Oh goody, new cards added, and it was obvious someone had
gone through the deck because the alphabetical order list was gone.
Yes, give that scum his own trading card.
Let him have a fan base, because that's who children needed to admire, awesome serial killers. He hated looking
at the face that used to be his and his alone. How nice of him to have a class picture.
There was one for the yearbook.
Each card had a victim list on the back, if they had more victims than space, there would be a special double card
with a hologram star on it.
One families pain is another person's collectible.
He still couldn't pronounce Fez' real name but not for lack of trying.
Lauren Ann Forman
Edna Hyde
Michael Kevin Keslo
Benjamin Michael Mason
Judith Lucinda Mason
Meredith Anne Mason
Donna Marie Pinciotti
If the greedy nitwits in a smoke filled back room thought of making Killer Kardz, why didn't they make cards that
honored the victims, the people that didn't deserve to be killed by such an awesome serial killer? Not that he
really liked the idea of victim cards either. It was the principle of it all. He flipped the card back over those eyes
had no life in them and he hated that face most of all.
His face.
He put the cards back in the case and into the paper bag. Hyde didn't know what he was going to do with them.
He really wanted to publicly (and he hated being above the radar) sue them, but it was their first amendment
right. It was downright sickening to make a profit from families nightmares. The bed was too small for Sid and
Hyde almost wanted to sleep on the floor, he'd have done so, if he was the only passenger on the bus. He
wanted to sleep, but couldn't sleep. He was lucky if he slept 4 hours a night, that was considered a good night.
Not counting the times he was over intoxicated, because that was the false sense of sleep, and it certainly
wasn't a restful slumber. Hyde didn't think he'd fall asleep so quickly; it must have been the hum of the air
conditioning unit and the movement of the bus along another road to nowhere.
He was in that same familiar house. Hyde called out her name.
"Jackie…."
The house morphed into a house from the early '60s and he could feel his body get smaller, his walls
disappearing, his innocence personified.
This is a good feeling.
There was a woman with her back turned, her reddish-brown hair put up, the table was simple there was a
place setting for two grown-ups and a smaller table with two tiny chairs next to them. She took a peek from the
kitchen curtains. The woman laughed, she was happy, as she dropped the big mixing spoon in the pancake
batter.
This feels right.
She opened the window and happily rose her voice, she sounded like an Angel, "Buddy, you're going to be late
for work! Breakfast is almost ready."
The back door opened and her husband with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up was playing a game of
morning catch with his twin sons.
"I think we have two major leaguers here, honey." He kissed her on the cheek, putting the baseball and
catcher's mitt on the counter.
I wish this was real. I never laughed like this…
A pretty mother, an attentive father, who loved their family.
Did I just die?
Edna would let her precious twin boys eat their pieces of cut up pancakes with their hands. That's what being a
child was about, to let them explore and have fun to experience the feel of the sticky syrup on their little chunky
toddler hands.
A gift from God they were.
"Buddy, you didn't finish your breakfast, the bacon is almost ready…"
"I'm going to be late, honey. I love you."
They kissed each other on the lips.
"I love you, too."
"And I love my boys….Daddy will see the both you later when I come home from work."
Kisses and hugs.
"Bye, Daddy!" the two of them said as they smashed their hands in the syrup making squishy sounds.
I wanted this moment for forever.
"Do you love me, Mommy?"
I need to know.
Edna picked Hyde up, "Yes! Oh Steven, very much so. I think I better wash you and your brothers hands." She
kissed him on the top of his curly head.
Why is he so quiet?
Please don't ruin this…..I don't want this moment ruined.
The doorbell rang and Edna turned off the stove so the bacon wouldn't burn. She moved the pan to the back
burner so the boys couldn't reach it and get hurt from the hot oil.
It was her neighbor Kitty Forman with her cute little boy Eric in tow; she was carrying a yellow plastic measuring
cup.
"Hi, Edna, I need to borrow a cup of sugar…"
"Of course, Kitty. Come in. Don't you look handsome, Eric."
"Hi, Mrs. Hyde."
"Where's your sweet little girl?"
"Laurie is playing at a friends house."
"Eric, would you like some homemade blueberry pancakes and bacon?"
He looked at Kitty, "Of course you can, Eric."
"I want to show Steven my new race car!"
Eric pulled the small red car out of his jeans pocket.
The twin is gone.
Is Edna going to blame me?
It is so nice feeling love from my parents…I'm not going to let this play out….
Sid's barking woke up Hyde up; he wiped the tears from his eyes, totally unacceptable.
He was 27 years old and a journalist on a rock bands tour bus.
Hyde sat up and moved to sit on the side of the bunk, so he could pet his dog for comfort.
"It's okay, Sid, it was just a dream I had…Only a dream."