Jack: Three words that mean so much

He watched the news every night hoping to hear those three words that would tell him that finally, yes FINALLY, he would get the recognition he believed he deserved. Night after night, every broadcast on every channel, and still nothing. Early morning. Noon. Evening. 6 o'clock. 10 o'clock. 11 o'clock. He had setup his multiple TiVo and DVR's to record all stations within 100 miles, just in case one of the smaller channels had broke it first.

Nothing.

The little sugar glider that had been asleep in Jack's shirt pocket begins to stretch, clawing Jack through his undershirt and leaving little scratches on his chest as is climbs up to his shoulder. Taking a brief look at it's bewildered owner, it flies across the tiny apartment into its cage for the night. Pushing a treat into the cage's food container, Jack makes his way to bed after the 1:30am news again fails to satisfy his need to be found out.

Placing his cell phone onto its charging base, Jack reads a few pages of the latest copy of Highlights, clicks of the light, and finally calls it a day.

But he can't sleep. Jack can't sleep. Too much is still on his mind. This is usually bad for someone other than Jack, for if Jack could sleep just for one night, the people who need the park as their home and resting place would be safe. But not tonight, Jack can't sleep.

Bouncing off the walls, the back light of his phone flashes brightly in the darkness of the bedroom. Knowing its too early for the charge to be complete, Jack turns his attention to the alert flashing on the device. Now he is glad he signed up for those real-time news alert messages. It's been nice getting updates while out during the course of a normal workday, but this time, Jack is truly happy. Across the screen flashes ***BREAKING NEWS***. Clicking the link contained within, the story begins with those three words Jack has been waiting so long to hear:

"Police are baffled..."

Your Story 11 - Contest Entry

I swear this is how it happened. Figuring my friends where trying to play a trick on me, I picked up the lightsaber toy from the table and started messing around with it in the kitchen and dining room. Waving it around like I was really finally going to cut off that annoying Jar Jar’s head, or defecting blaster shots or whatever. I was even doing dialouge like I used to when I was a kid playing my room.

I came to rescue you.
They told me you killed him.
I got a bad feeling about this.
How can I see anything with the blast shield down?

I figured, my friends know me well enough, they’ve probably hidden a camera around here so I’ll give them a good show. It’s not like I’ve never done this before. Like I said, I thought it was supposed to be fun. After a few rounds of this nonsense, I look at the lightsaber a little closer to see how to get the sword part to come out. Some you just wrist whip and it shoots out, others you have to find the release switch and the spring inside shoots the whole thing up like it was really electric light. But I look at it and I can’t figure it out. Checking the ends, I notice there’s no little plastic tubes inside or anything. I just looks like a suped up flashlight. I slump onto the couch and reach for the remote. I must have bumped something ‘cause all the sudden this thing lights up. I mean really lights up, like in the movies. So now I look like I’m holding a huge green glow stick in my house, and I can’t turn it off. I’m spining around now, trying to figure out what to do and not stab myself accidentaly. I carved up my coffee table and left a long black burn mark from the living room back through the kitchen all the way to the door that leads back outside. If there is a camera, maybe they’ll see me freaking out and tell me “jokes over” click a button and turn the thing of remotely.

Then it dies, or shuts off at least. I’m sweating pretty badly now, still not sure of whats going on, when I see this guy outside my window wearing a monks costume.

Wait, don’t tell me that it’s some Jedi Master, and this is all real and you can use the Force now. Is that what you are about to tell me?

Doc, I told you. I swear this is how it happened. I didn’t blow up anything. I’m not bad guy here. I was being trained and I didn’t have good control then so I dropped things.

I think I’ve heard enough for today. We’ll see how you’re feeling tomorrow after you take your medicine and get some rest ok?

The psychologist stands to leave thinking “this is why they call this the ‘looney bin’” and starts to walk out of the room. Suddenly he feels himself being lifted off the ground. Instincively he reaches for what should be hands or arms carrying him up further, but nothing is there. His body floats, spins slowly around until he is again facing his patient.

Doc, I suggest you rethink your diagnosis here. And be careful not to distract me. I told you, sometimes I drop things.

Driven to Greatness

Mr. E always tried to do be the best at everything, usually with some measure of success. It never occured to him that someone else might also have that same kind of drive and determination. These two very focused individuals meeting could either be a sign of greatness, or one of disaster. He would think that to himself upon learning of the others like him. "Maybe, just maybe, I can accomplish something spectacular if I can get the others like me to listen."

As he buried the third non-believer however, Mr. E began to realize a very different dream. First he was going to need a bigger yard. But more importantly, Mr. E purposed "if I am the only one left, than THAT would be greatness personified."

If you are reading this, chances are you are not driven enough to be on Mr. E's list. However, you probably know someone in your way that may fit that profile. All he needs is a name. Sounds like a win win right?

"Transplanted"

They cut me out of my mother just after she died. If the bullet had been a little left or right, well, they still would've had to cut me out. Except she'd be alive and not me. Needless to say I never knew my mother. Growing up I was told countless times how nice and wonderful she was. How she couldn't wait to bring me into the world. She did take a beautiful picture. The man I knew as my father did his best to show me how much he loved me. Even after he married and had my half-siblings. Always fair he was. He was the first to see if he matched when I needed a new kidney.

Shock or amazement, you decide which. Not only in having someone so young with failed kidneys, but then to discover its not your child. Apparently only mom knew. No match was to be had there. We did find a donor though. A gentleman that was serving out his final days on death row matched . Whatever it was that made my body so difficult to partner, he had it too. But that just raised more questions. What else did my mother hide from everyone?

After grandad dies some years later, grandma started opening up a bit. Then the skeletons came flooding out. I wasn't what you'd call a healthy child, and now I was beginning to understand why. Drugs, alcohol, abuse both physical and mental. All my life I couldn't understand why someone would shoot my mother. This version provided many possibilities. But anger drove me to find out who.

The police knew. The caught and prosecuted the man. Executed some 5 years ago now. However, this knowledge troubled me more than the relief I was expecting. Which is worse, not being able to face my mother's killer, or knowing his kidney saved their daughter's life?

I got a little carried away....

Gnu here.

Miss me? I've managed to gain most of my coordination back. Is that the right way to explain that since I kinda didn't really have it to begin with? Well, whatever it is, I'm pretty much normal now. It takes a bit of concentration but I'm managing. I get distracted every now and then and have an "episode", my therapist calls it that, but I'm super thanks for asking!

I found out what the couch was, not funny. I did however manage to land an agent who's been really helpful in getting me ready for some real work. She seems to think I have a real future, just we don't know in what yet.

I have an appointment for some headshots, later this week. On an aside real quick I did NOT like the sound of this at first but she assures me that its ok and that no one is going to shoot me in the head. In preparation I've gotten some hair coloring and cut. I'm going to the gym more, and yes with my coordination issues, its quite a sight I'm sure. I was told I should shave. I looked at my agent funny when she said that because I figured that she could tell that I shave already. If I hadn't, I'd be a grizzly mess by now. Then she explained it.

Oh.....There.

I tried it, and I must admit that it did make a huge (no pun intended) difference. I kept going, with the intent of cleaning it up a little, make it all even and such.

I got a little carried away.

See, there's a spot between the balls and the butt crack that needed attention. I gotta bend waaaay over to see and reach it. I trim it up a bit and keep seeing more little stubborn strands that won't go away. Up a little, shave a little, up a little, shave a little........Next thing I know, I've breached into my ass crack. I decided I couldn't stop half way, that would be like shaving, well only half your ass, so I went on and finished.

Oh, I tried to save time by using some of that hair removal lotion crap, but you try standing still, in the shower, with your ass cheek's rubbing together all lubed up. Remember who's memory I have here, not a pleasant situation for me to say the least.

In the end its all done and I hope to get some work soon. I'll be sure to check in when you can see/hear me!

I can never use that razor again can I?

Gnu Lowenstein

I'm back! I decided upon a name for myself, Gnu Lowenstein.

I was watching TV the other day and came accross this old childrens show. Something with a roller coaster and puppets and stuff. There was this thing pretending to do news and it always got messed up in the end. But he always stayed positive, sorta, and kept on repeating "No News is Good News with Gary Gnu." It hit me! Why not just keep my name "new"?!? I mean I am after all and outside of being a clone (that's still just between us right?), I figured this is a great way to keep my name in people's memories!

So where did Lowenstein come from? Well that took a little more thought. I have decided that I want to get into the entertainment biz. I seem to have some shared memories or dreams of that nature. And while the original didn't pursue them, I think I'll give it a go. But to do that I'll need a name that get's me in the door. Strange as it sounds, most people don't buy me as a clone. I play it off as a character I created and they just aren't interested. But I noticed something about all the producers, writers, directors, casting agents, and so on. Everyone they gave a shot to had the same kinda name as they did!

So I picked up a phone book and tried looking for a similar sounding name without trying to be too obvious. I couldn't decide on one so I took parts from a few different ones and came up with Lowenstein.

Can anyone point me in the direction of this casting couch I keep hearing so much about?

I'm new here

HI!

I'm new. I don't have a name yet but maybe you could help me?

I'm a clone. (shhh, it's supposed to be a secret.)

Yeah, I know, a clone. Hey, I don't make fun of you because you're "normal"?! I kinda sorta escaped, got thrown out, of the facility. Apparently, as one of the first batch of human clones, I'm the dud. What do they know?! Just because I can walk, speak and so on, just like the others I might add, but didn't get all the memories of my original, that makes me a dud. I believe they're the duds. Really, other than mute supermodels, since when did we really need two of anyone?

I can't really talk long, but I just wanted to see if there might be another "dud" out there who would like to learn how to eat food again. It's not pretty. I have the physical ability of a newborn when it comes to putting food in my mouth. I can run to the hotdog stand, but can't quite get the dog in the propper orafice. Which reminds me, any future scientists out there, do the clone a favor and don't clone a guy who spent more time shoving crap up his ass than in his mouth. The dominant memories are the only ones I got.

I'll be in touch and maybe by then I'll have named myself!