Jokers Wyrd

by DragonDancer5150

"When the Grim Reaper hands you a rubber chicken," said the Master Detective, "you say thank you and take it. But there you go. THAT is why I don't like clowns." His friend gave a low whistle, shaking his head at the extraordinary tale. "Can't say I blame you, mate." Canon is Mystery Case Files. Pre-canon fic. COMPLETE

4. Making Do

Disclaimer - "Mystery Case Files" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Big Fish Games, Elephant Games, and Eipix Entertainment. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. Original characters, however, are mine - please contact for permission before using. This includes Darnell as a defined, fleshed-out character in his own right.

Jokers Wyrd
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 4 - Making Do

Shaking in fright, Darnell pulled his knees to his chest, curling up as he fought to calm his breathing and his racing heart. "Come on . . . get a grip . . . no panicking . . . head clear . . . t-there's a way out, just . . . just have to calm down and find it." He panted in and out with the first few phrases, but the act of speaking the words aloud, of telling himself what he needed to do and hearing it, helped slow his breathing and soothe his frayed nerves. Looking down at the passenger foot well, he found and picked up the tall gearshift, grimacing at the head. It was a literal head, the knob sculpted in the shape of a creepy clown head. Because of course it was. Gripping the shaft in both hands, he shifted his feet under him and lunged at the opposite window, hoping to shatter the glass with the ugly clown-head knob.

The shaped knob bounced off the clear surface with a boing! that belonged in a cartoon. Darnell however found no humor in it, crying out in pain as he flinched back and then slumped sideways onto the steering wheel with one hand clapped over his forehead where the clown-head had clubbed him on rebound. "Ow. O-okay, Plan B. Please tell me there's a Plan B." He tossed down the gearshift and started searching the rest of the car.

Working himself into the backseat, he spotted the corner of a handkerchief peeking up from between the seat cushions. He pulled the kerchief out, only to find the diagonal corner knotted with the corner of another kerchief, and that one knotted to a third. Feeling like a cheap stage magician, Darnell kept drawing out kerchiefs until he had a rope of sorts at least three feet in length. With the end, he also pulled out a handful of Pixie Stix tubes. He had no idea what he might use them for - he sure as heck wasn't going to eat them! - but he stuck them in his pocket all the same. He sat back and looked at the kerchief rope in his hands. "There has to be a way I can use this."

He gazed around, attention drawn back to the windows. "If I can't break the glass outright, maybe I can pop the panes out somehow." He looked at the rope again, and the gearshift lying under the foot pedals up front, and back at the windows – at the two center frames. "Huh…yup, that should work." He huffed. "It'd better!"

He scrambled back over into the driver's seat, then reclined the seatback as far as it would go. Casting quick glances left and right to make sure no one was nearby to catch him at this, he snaked one end of the kerchief rope out the front window, across, and back in through the rear window, and tied it off to form a loop around the two center window frames, leaving a little bit of slack. He snatched up the gearshift again, passed the shaft between the rope and window, and gave it a quick twist, trapping the shaft in a loop of rope. And then he kept twisting, working the gearshift like the crank handle of a table vice and tightening the loop on the window frames, bending them ever so slightly towards each other.

Drat! he thought, huffing with his efforts – this took almost more strength than he possessed. The window is bowing a little, but it's bending inward. If I try to kick it out, the edges will just jam into the frames. He glanced at the front and rear windows. But maybe the frames are loosening just enough on the other two…

On the third try – twist-twist, kick! twist-twist, kick! – the front window bucked free of the door frame with a loud SPROING! that made Darnell flinch and look around again. He eased off the tension of the rope, knowing that if he just let go, the gearshift would spin and likely clock him hard. Several twists in the other direction, and he finally dropped the gearshift, climbed out the window, and darted away to hide behind the nearest circus wagon and retake stock of his situation.