Balto 2010

Chapter 1: Pink Sheets and Parking Tickets

If there was anything that Michael R. Brown regretted in life, it was that stupid weather machine. That weather machine had started it all.

But that's not where our story begins, nor is it where it ends.

Our story starts with the pink sheet.

Michael stared at the pink sheet in his hand. One little pink sheet. A sheet that meant a lot. Michael's tired old eyes looked at the big bold head line that made him die a little on the inside:

NOTICE OF TERMINATION

Michael Brown had always been a scientist at heart. From the day that he was 12 and he got a chemistry set for his birthday, he had always loved science. From chemical bonding to complex formulas, Michael loved every single thing about science.

And that's why he started working at M.I.S.T

M.I.S.T (Manhattan Institute of Science and Technology) was a large corporation that focused on everything that was science. From curing cancer to living on the moon, the covered everything and anything you could imagine. Hovercars, super computers, food in pills, lasers that could scratch your ass from the moon, and even time travel.

And that's why Michael applied there 35 years ago, when he was a handsome young man of 25. When the C. looked at him and how much he loved science, they knew he was going places, and that he belonged there. And Michael loved working there. He always did his best, never complained about anything, always kept his nose clean and in its own business.

That is, until, last week

Michael wished he had never stumbled into that closet. He shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead at the thought. He still remembers seeing Jonathan, the head C.E.O, pants down, arms around the new secretary, kissing her neck. They instantly turned to look at him, frozen in time, deer-in-the-headlights look on their faces. Michael tried to say something, but instead doubled timed it out of there.

Michael tried to tell head office, he knew what Jonathan did was wrong, but Jonathan, an evil and crooked man, made sure that Michael would fail. He told head office that he had seen Michael snorting a white powder in the bathroom on lunch breaks, and then he purposely sabotaged Michael's big project, and poor Michael was wrongfully terminated. Michael shook with rage as he remembered what Jonathan said to him as he was leaving M.I.S.T for the final time

"You just had to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, didn't ya, Mikey? Just remember this: You never try and mess with a C.E.O! You should've just kept your nose in your own damn business!"

Michael tore up the sheet in rage, letting the little pink pieces fly away in the crisp October weather. He began walking towards his car, defeated. He stuck his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down and tried to blink back tears. It wasn't fair! He loved his job, and he would never do any sort of drug, especially at work. He reached the parking lot and looked up to see a parking ticket stuck on the windshield of his blue Dodge Omni.

"A Parking Ticket?!? Aww Come On!" Michael cried out. He snatched the ticket up and gaped at it

PARKING VIOLATION

REASON: PARKED IN A UNOTHORIZED SPACE

FINE: $1500

"$1500?!?! But this is my spot...." Michael's voice trailed off as he looked up to see that the sign saying RESERVED FOR MICHAEL BROWN missing. That didn't make sense. They couldn't have took it off already. Unless...

Michael looked up when he heard the snickering. What he saw made him boil with rage. There was Jonathan, smirking, holding the sign. Michael opened his mouth to say something, probably something that would have made his mother wash his mouth out with soap back in the day, but stopped. What was the point? He had already won.

Defeated, Michael got into his car. He looked around at the dingy interior. Torn blue seats with Dodge seat covers, dark grey dashboard with cigarette burns on it, faded green pine tree air freshener that no longer smelled like pine, all of Michaels stuff from M.I.S.T currently occupied the back seat of the car. Michael stuck the key in the ignition and turned it sideways.

Nothing

Don't do this to me

He turned it again

A tired whine escaped the engine

Come on, turn over

He turned it again, and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal

The engine backfired, squealed, then finally turned over, chugging lightly as it idled. Michael put the car into reverse with a large grind of protest from the gears. He backed out of the space, grinded back into first, then left the garage with large backfire from the car, leaving nothing behind at M.I.S.T but a big cloud of exhaust.

Michael sighed as he drove down 5th avenue, nothing but a sea of yellow taxis around him. His mind was a flurry of thoughts as he stopped at the light, Tom Petty's "Free Falling" played on the radio. Then one particular thought hit him:

What would Marty think of him?

Michael groaned at this thought. Marty was his 18 year old son, kinda looked like Michael when he was his age. Black, short hair, fair complexion, tall for his age, taller than Michael even. But unlike Michael, Marty had no interest in science whatsoever. He was only interested in what any 18 year old was interested in: Girls, Cars, Beer & Porn. It's not like he hadn't tried to get Michael interested in Science Michael thought as he turned the corner, heading towards Central Park. He got him a chemistry set when he was 12, took him to The New York Nation Science Expo every year, heck, he even bought him every Bill Nye DVD there was! But no prevailed, as Marty only cared about what any other kid cared about growing up in the 20th century: Video Games, Cell Phones, iPods, Internet, Football Teams, Baseball Teams, Hockey Team, New Cars Coming Out, Beer Pong, The Centerfold in every new Playboy, and of course, rebelling against the parents. Michael wasn't strict per say, but he did believe in a few old school rules: Tuck your shirt in, be home by 11, no going out on school nights, no house parties, no...

Michael's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden jerk by his car. The engine gave out a sound familiar to Michaels tired old ears.

Oh No No NO!

The car continued to jerk violently. Black smoke as thick as molasses poured from the engine. Michael quickly aimed for an empty parking spot

Please, not now! Not now off all times!

He pulled into the parking spot just as the car gave one last violent jerked, backfired, then died completely with a loud whoosh of smoke from the engine, like an old man sighing with relief.

"Damn It! Damn It! DAMN IT!" Michael cursed as he punched the wheel with each curse, producing three short, tired sounding beeps from the tired horn of the car. Michael sighed and slumped against the steering wheel. God, he hated this car, why didn't he just get a new one? The little voice at the back of his head answered for him

Because this is your old man's car, and it's the only thing you have left of him

Michael looked into the rear-view mirror. His reflection stared back at him. His once black hair was now grey with streaks of white in it. His face was tired and wrinkled, and his eyes were shrunken back into his head slightly, and there were red circles under his eyes.

You look just like him the day he left

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" He screamed. He opened his eyes. He was still just sitting in his car. Defeated, he got out, and after quickly making sure the doors were locked, started walking through Central Park.

His eyes scanned the park, and he saw a typical Modern Day New York City scene: Women pushing strollers, guys tossing Frisbees for their dogs, Teenage boys playing on the newest, most fanciest gaming console, teenage girls chatting and texting on cell phone that could do a bajillion thing all in one tiny device. Michael sat down on a park bench, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. 'What am I going to do?' He thought 'I'll have to get another job, but no one is going to hire some 60-year-old crackpot scientist. I'll have to go on welfare, I'll have to sell the house, I'll have to use Marty's tuition fund for grocery money, I'll, I'll' Suddenly Michaels thoughts were interrupted by a tiny voice

"Hey mister, whatsa matter with you?"

Michael opened his eyes and looked around. There was no one there. Strange, He thought, I could have sworn there was someone...

"Down Here" The voice said

Michael looked down and saw a little grey Miniature Schnauzer staring back at him, his brown eyes meeting Michaels green ones.

"Why you looka so sad?" This time Michael could see the words being formed on the Schnauzers lips

Since Michael could remember, he'd had the ability to speak to animals. At first it was just barks that sounded like words, but since he was about 20, he'd been having full on conversations with every sort of animal. Of course no one believed him