Chapter 7: Sleep of the Drugged II


Frankie floated and glided through the air. It was a yummy sunny day
with a cool breeze flowing through the lower middle strata of the
atmosphere. He took a look around. There were the familiar hills. The
little trees way down below that look like small bits of broccoli. He
noticed now that the broccoli was in various shades of orange and brown
for the autumn season. A river twisted and turned through the valley
between the hills.

He swooped and turned and once again found himself directly over the
residential area. Swooping down a bit lower, he saw the black van
rumbling down the lane towards the playground. Frankie held his arms
forward and glided along with the van, just fifty feet or so above it.
He followed it as it went up the lane and stopped at the playground. As
the van stopped, Frankie pointed his feet down to the ground and gently
landed behind the van. He took a look around the side of the van and saw
that the two golden retrievers in black suits had gotten out of the van.
Glancing towards the playground, he saw that there were two ferret kids
on the swing set in the playground. The ferret girl was swinging back
and forth gently in a carefree manner while the ferret boy seemed
determined to kill himself with some really violent exaggerated swinging
up and down.

As Frankie watched, the first dog pulled out a small black device with
lots of grey buttons. He pushed some of the buttons in a sequence that
perhaps was known only to trained operators of the device. The device
beeped.

The first dog said "Do you think the one with the implant is the ferret
boy?"

The second dog said "Hard to say. They are too close together to get an
accurate triangulation."

The first dog added "Well, I say we should pick one. Would boss guy be
able to tell if we got the correct one? Maybe they both have implants."

The second dog said "Okay, we can always say the darn device is not
working too well or we made a mistake. And we can ask for forgiveness
later."

The first dog said "Alright then. So which ferret kid do we pick?"

The second dog said "Umm... how about the ferret girl? She seems like
the kind who will not put up a fight. The ferret boy looks crazy."

The first dog said "Okay. Let's get the ferret girl then. Fire the
remote neural knockout."

The second dog then pulled out a black rod of about six inches in
length. As Frankie observed, he saw that it had a metal tip. The second
dog pointed the rod at the ferret girl and pushed a button at the base
of the rod. The tip of the rod glowed red and the rod made a buzzing
sound. The ferret girl went limp, just hanging on the swing seat with
her torso down one side and her legs down the other side.

The two dogs then rushed into the playground to grab the ferret girl. At
the same time, Frankie heard the rockets explode and saw the ferret boy
flying over the top of the swing. He had no time to waste. As the two
dogs carried the ferret girl back towards the van, he dashed out from
behind the van and jumped right in front of them. Not wanting to loose
the element of surprise, Frankie struck quickly and decisively. He
swung a leg out and kicked the first dog in the ribs, trying his best
not to accidentally hit the ferret girl in the process. The first dog
recoiled and staggered back with a look of pain on his face, still
holding the ferret girl's arms. The second dog had set the ferret girl's
legs down and had turned towards Frankie. Frankie swung around and with
his right fist, he made contact with the second dog's jaw. However, he
was a bit too late. As he landed a punch on the second dog's jaw, the
second dog swung his arm up and slammed Frankie on his shoulder, causing
him to stagger forward, blunting his blow to the second dog's jaw.

Meanwhile, the first dog had recovered somewhat from the body blow and
came towards Frankie with a flying kick. Frankie turned to face the
kick. He leaned back to dodge the kick and wrapped his left arm around
the first dog's outstretched leg. Then with a slight jerk of his body,
he tipped the first dog's balance and toppled the dog onto the ground.
In the meantime, the second dog had spun around and was about to deliver
a kick right to Frankie's head. Frankie ducked forward and to one side
and the kick landed harmlessly in the air. Without wasting a moment, he
stuck two fists out, simultaneously hitting the second dog's solar
plexus and abdomen, causing the second dog to lose his balance a little.

In the meantime, the first dog, still lying on the ground, spun himself
around and managed to tangle his legs into Frankie's legs. The first dog
continued his spin on the ground and knocked Frankie's legs out from
under him. Frankie lost his balance and fell to the ground at a right
angle to the first dog. The second dog recovered from the two punches
and raised one foot above Frankie's torso. He could not do much as the
first dog's legs were still locked around his own legs. All he could do
was try to catch the second dog's foot as it came down. He braced
himself and as he saw the second dog's foot descend, he raised both
hands and caught it. But it was to no avail as the second dog
continued forcing his foot downwards until it pressed on Frankie's
chest. As the pressure on his chest from the second dog's foot
increased, Frankie found it harder and harder to breathe until he was
gasping for air. Was this the end of his little fight?

The next thing Frankie heard was the morning traffic report. Apparently,
the George Washington Bridge had another two hour delay on the upper
deck and a ninety minute delay on the lower deck, the Cross Bronx
Expressway was all tied up in construction delays and so was Route 80,
which had been under construction for about three centuries. Frankie
woke up with a start. He felt his heart going a mile a minute. His
sheets were inexplicably wrapped tightly around his chest and neck so he
figured that might have something to do with the hard to breathe
sensation in his dream. He took a look at his night stand and saw that
the clock radio read nine sharp in the AM. As always it was tuned to the
news and talk radio station. He sat on his bed for a minute or two,
waiting for his heart to stop racing. As he began to calm down, he
noticed that once again, he was completely nude.

Quickly, he checked his body for any signs of violation, sexual or
otherwise. There did not appear to be any stickiness or matted fur on
his groin or behind. He clenched and unclenched his bung hole. Nothing
seemed out of whack there. He rolled his tongue around his mouth. No
unusual tastes or odor. There also did not seem to be any
wounds or injuries on any part of his body. He checked the back of his
head and this time there was no bump. Everything seemed in order or so
he thought. Until, that is, he spotted the used condom on the floor next
to his bed.

Holding his head in his hands, Frankie ran through the sequence of the
previous day's events. He saved a little kitten girl from being run over
by a taxi. Then he was invited up to the apartment of The Barnacle.
There was that weird hallway with the wet clay pulsating as though there
was a heart beating. And there were those portraits in the hallway,
including one bearing a startling resemblance to himself. Then there was
the apartment. There was the strange ferret child with the bending
spork. Then he went into the kitchen. In the kitchen, The Barnacle
offered him tea and mushroom cookies. Then there was a bit of
philosophical talk, of which he remembered very little. Then The
Barnacle gave him the .45 caliber gun. Looking up from his cupped hands,
Frankie saw the gun sitting on his desk. Oddly enough, the gun was now
in a medium brown leather holster even though he did not remember ever
getting such a holster from The Barnacle. Then after that, The Barnacle
handed him a paper cup supposedly with tea in it. Looking up again at
his desk, Frankie saw a crumpled origami paper cup but it was dry on the
inside. Then he remembered asking The Barnacle about her name, and The
Barnacle then showed off her large monopod foot and demonstrated her
skill at standing on the wall and stuck to the wall. Then his memory got
a bit vague and he remembered a bit of leaving the kitchen, the
apartment and the building but nothing after that.

He sat up straight with a sudden jerk. Of course, it was the mushroom
cookie, he thought. Everything after that must have been a mix of
reality and hallucination, with the hallucinations increasing in
intensity until everything just blanked out into a timeless state of
mind.

Frankie took a look around his bedroom. Once again, his jacket was
draped around the chair by his desk. He got up off his bed and
approached his desk. He saw a yellow sticky note sitting on his desk.
The only thing it said was "Follow the Red Rooster". With a grimace and
a look of complete disgust on his face, he went back to his bedside,
picked up the used condom and tossed it into his wastebasket. He decided
he needed a warm shower.

His bathroom was a bit on the small side but completely functional.
The bathroom walls were wallpapered with blue flowery wallpaper that
Frankie had never bothered changing since he moved in. The floor was
tiled in tiny square stone tiles. On one side, there was a bathroom sink
with a mirror above it. The mirror was in two halves. One half would
slide over the other, revealing a medicine cabinet. In the medicine
cabinet, Frankie kept a small inventory of salves, bandages, pain
medication, and cough and flu medication. There was also an emergency
roll of toilet paper for the occasions when he forgot to change an empty
roll in the toilet paper holder. The kitchen sink was an olive green
nightmare trimmed with a chrome border. A utilitarian faucet sat at the
head of the sink. Two chrome knobs, one with a red H and the other with
a blue C, and one spout were the entirety of the faucet. Below the sink,
there were another set of doors, which when opened revealed a small
cupboard. That is where Frankie kept the toilet bowl cleaning fluid and
the toilet wipes. The latter were a 21st century innovation to make
cleaning the toilet bowl more convenient. The sheets of paper wipes were
doused in cleaning solution and dissolved in water so they could be
flushed down the toilet when one was done wiping.

Next to the bathroom sink stood the toilet of course. It was a design
that remained essentially unchanged since a certain John Crapper drew it
up. There was a bowl of porcelain. On the bowl, there was a hinged
wooden and formica toilet seat that can be placed either on the bowl or
propped up against the tank. Over the seat, there was another wooden and
formica hinged item. This time it was a cover for the seat. Above the
toilet bowl, there was a tank of porcelain with a porcelain cover over
it. The tank held water, ready for use in the next flush. A chrome
handle on the upper right corner of the front of the tank activated the
flush mechanism.

On the other side of the bathroom, there was a bath tub. It was a large
olive green tub that was smooth all over, except for the bottom of the
tub that had grooves in it to prevent slips and falls. A rail at about
half a foot above head level went around the tub. To that rail, Frankie
had installed a plastic shower curtain. The shower curtain had the
"Ferret Power" logo repeated all over it. At the time Frankie bought it,
he thought that was pretty cool. A bit later, he thought it was pretty
dorky. The shower nozzle was set way up in the wall at one end of the
shower. Below the shower nozzle were the shower controls and a shower
faucet. One knob had a red H on it and the other knob had a blue C on
it. The chrome spout was below the two knobs and it pointed down to the
bath tub. There was a small knob on the spout that would shut the water
off there and redirect the water to the shower nozzle above. To one side
of the shower faucet and set in the wall was a small tray for a bar of
soap. In there, sat a half used bar of Kent Falls soap, which was green
in color. Supposedly, that soap captured the freshness of one of
Connecticut's tallest waterfalls, although given the water pollution
these days, perhaps that was not such a good comparison to make.

Frankie stepped into the shower, drew the shower curtains close, and
turned the knobs. Water came out of the spout. He placed one hand under
the flowing water while adjusting the knobs with the other hand, until
the temperature felt just about right. Then he pulled the small knob on
the spout, stood up, and waited. After a second or two, a jet of cold
water shot out of the nozzle. Frankie let the cold water run over his
body. He was used to the hot water taking its time to get up to the
shower nozzle. After about ten more seconds, the water reached a more
comfortable temperature. Frankie picked up the soap and worked it into a
lather. He soaped up the fur all over his body, taking particular care
to clean his groin and behind area thoroughly, although no matter how
much he scrubbed, he could not shake the somewhat dirty feeling he had
there. After some time, he was done with the soaping up so he put the
soap back in the little tray. Then he continued running his hands
through his fur until all the soap had gotten out. Relatively satisfied
with the shower, he turned the knobs off and pushed the little knob on
the spout back down. He always made sure he remembered to do the latter
because of the one time he forgot and water came out immediately from
the nozzle the next time he turned the knobs. When that happens, you get
a scare that lasts a lifetime, he thought. Once the water stopped, he
drew the shower curtains open and stepped out of the tub.

Then he noticed that his towel was not on the hook behind the bathroom
door. Once again, he had forgotten his towel. That was totally unlike
any hoopy frood who always knew where his towel was. Frankie shook his
head with disappointment. It was a good thing, he thought, that he lived
alone. Or else it would be a bit embarrassing to have to get his towel
from his room in the nude. And so, dripping wet from head to toe and
leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor, he crossed the hallway
from his bathroom to his bedroom. Lying in a heap behind his bedroom
door was his towel. He picked it up, shook it a bit to get the dust out,
and proceeded to dry himself, running his towel up and down, back and
forth, side to side all over his fur. As a final touch, he ran the towel
through the many crevices: his armpits, under his chin, behind his ears,
and through some other... ahem... parts. And then he was done. He tossed
his towel back behind his bedroom door. Momma would have a fit if she
saw how he kept his stuff, he thought.

Seeing as how he was all dry, he decided he ought to get dressed. So
once again, he dove into his little walk in closet. After some bumping
around, he came out of his closet all spiffy and dressed in a
light yellow cotton polo shirt and a dark blue pair of poly cotton mix
slacks. Then he picked up his yellow and black acrylic jacket from the
back of the chair next to his desk and put it on. Then he picked up the
holster with the .45 caliber gun in it. The holster was on a leather
belt so he strapped the belt around his waist. That seemed somewhat
cool, like he was a cowboy. He did not have a cowboy hat or spurs on
his shoes so the leather holster might be a bit out of place but he was
sure most would refrain from questioning such a large gun.

He took another look at the yellow sticky note sitting on his desk. It
still read "Follow the Red Rooster". He picked up the note and put it in
the pocket of his jacket. He wondered what it could be referring to. The
only Red Rooster he knew of was a certain road food drive in place up in
the town of Patterson in Putnam County. He was not sure if that was the
red rooster the note was referring to but what the hey? He had not been
there in a long time and missed the chicken sandwiches and black and
white shakes the place was well known for.

He glanced again at the used condom sitting in his wastebasket and
grimaced. Then he left his bedroom and went out the front door to take
on the day's adventures.