It was a crisp clear moonlit evening as Cheryl nervously walked towards the eery old house at the end of the lane.

Though the evening was quite late, the street long since darkened of signs of those that might still be awake at such an hour, one muted light in the uppermost window of the house in front of her still shone.

The hair prickled on on the back of her neck as she moved towards the front door causing her to look warily into the surrounding shadows around the house.

A voice, a sound, a feeling, reached from the lilac bush grasping at the end of the porch. "The work here is finished. You are no longer needed" came the shrouded words.

"Why!?!", came a loud chorus, from the opposite end of the porch. The rose bushes were all afire!

The lilac rustled with thinly concealed disgust. "Seedy lot! You've all gone to pot with your scented ignorance! Bumblers! That's what you lot are!" Cheryl looked confused.

Cheryl let her eyes slip to half-closing. She took in all that pully-pushyed her, and saw them without all the bother they tried to make. Saw them as just games. Games sent by children to frighten. Cheryl smiled. She enjoyed games. Her hand touched the warm doorknocker.

She grabbed the knocker and was about to knock when she heard a loud creak as the door swung open. But there was no one there. "I was wondering if I could borrower a cup of sugar" she blurted out nervously.

"Damn!" she thought, "'borrower' a cup of sugar'?" That was smooth. She took a small breath.
"I'm your new neighbor, and I was just thinking..."
From behind the door came: "You were thinking how odd it is that such a large, creepy house would be still standing here in 'burbland. Am I close?"
The door came towards her. She tried to move out of the way, but her coat pocket caught on the knob. She couldn't get it loose and was forced to walk backward, following the path of the closing door. A head came around the edge of the door, looking to see what the obstruction was. Cheryl was amazed by the face she saw.

Message edited on: 06/07/2005 10:51

Standing infront was her was this goregeous man! Which made her feel even more self-concious about messing up her words. She almost covered her eyes. He was only wearing a towel around his waist. Water droplets still glistened on his chiseled body and in his hand was a rubber yellow ducky!

He looked at the duck. "Osmond, it appears we have a guest. Shall we make tea?" To Cheryl "You do like tea, don't you?" "Bourbon. Early Times." she said, "Tea makes me...behave oddly." "Bourbon it is then" he said. He walked towards a large, dusty sideboard. She hoped he wasn't going to use one of the dusty glasses that sat on top of it. "I'm Cheryl" she said, feeling good that she didn't just blurt out another obsurdity like "Cheese is a funny color, don't you think?" "And now I'm to tell you my name, I suppose? Well, you already know Osmond." he said, pointing the ducks beak towards her without turning around. The motion caused his back muscles to flex. "Swimmer" she thought, "Without question, a swimmer."

"I'm really sorry to bother you so late." She explained watching him pour the bourbon generously into a clean glass. "It's just that I ran out of sugar and all the stores are closed and I have such a raging craving for baked alaska." And it's not even that time of the month she thought to herself. He turned around and handed her the drink. Nervously she took a gulp. Than she remembered that one doesn't gulp down bourbon. You're suppose to sip it and let it sloshed around in your mouth before you let it burn a nice smooth trail down your throat.

From somewhere between the chipped hat rack and the tall bookshelf came this: "Jacob, she has been told that her presence is not necessary. That matters have been dealt with. She is to finish her liquor drink and leave." Cheryl stopped mid-sip. She spoke with her lips still on the glass. "What's that?" she burbled. "It's one of the ghosts, spirits, ethereal beings, or as I call them..." (loudly now) "PAINS IN THE ASS!", (quietly now) that live here. Do you want real sugar, or will Equal do?" Jacob said.

"Splenda!" The voice yelled as the word echoed through out the house. "Err umm real sugar will do" She said. He reached into the cupboards overhead and handed her the whole bag. "Here take it, I have plenty. Besides, I'm starting on a strict protein diet."

Cheryl took the bag with a hand that trembled slightly. "I really don't need so much." she said, nervously looking around. "Your ghosts seem to be spirited beings."

Jacob looked long at her without saying anything. He suddenly whipped off his towel and Cheryl had a brief glimpse of leaf green shorts under it, before he snapped the towel viciously at her head.

"Drat!" said Jacob, "Missed! Osmond, do you think you could flap up there and nab that fly that's just gone and sat on that rafter?" He then turned to Cheryl and said, "There was a fly on your ear, sitting. I couldn't bear it."

Message edited on: 06/07/2005 13:53

"Not to put too fine a point on it, but your duck is made of rubber, and even my 10th grade knowledge of biology and physics tells me "flapping up" is not an opt..." With that, Jacob, never taking his eyes from hers, flicked the rubber duck towards the rafter. It bounced off and fell back at his feet. A black smudge on the bill told Cheryl that Osmond had indeed done as he was told. "Impressive, fleshy one, but can you do this?" a rasping voice said from the umbrella stand in the foyer. The black smudge once again became an annoying fly, buzzing about Cheryl's head. "Cliche, dead man, very cliche" Jacob said, "But top this." "Stop it! Both of you! I'm impressed, alright? But what exactly the "F" is going on here? I'm from Wisconsin. This kind of "S" doesn't happen there." "How sweet", said the sofa, "She doesn't do profane."

She had a bewildered look on her face. One of us must be crazy she thought. "I know it's not me, all I wanted was baked alaska. OK, I'm not crazy but I am talking to myself. Not Good Cheryl! Fudge!" "Cheryl, how rude of me. I am so sorry." He said apologetically, took her by the hand and lead her to the door. "Let me introduce myself, I am Jacob the great ventriloquist." He made a grand gesture and kissed the back of her hand. "I have been having a bit of fun at your expense. Please forgive me, let me walk you home. A sweet girl like you shouldn't be out alone."

Cheryl held his hand just long enough to be polite. "He seems determined to get me to leave" she thought, "Which tells me perhaps I am needed here." "May I...uhm...may I use your restroom before we leave? Sorry to be such a bother, but..." Jacob let his smile fade ever so slightly. "Of course, it's just down the hallway, second door on the left". He made no effort to guide her. "Second door on the right..." Cheryl began. "Left. The second door on the left." "Right. Left. I'll be...right...back." She walked down the hall, taking in the dusty portraits that covered the equally dusty walls. The wood flooring was, however, spotless. Cheryl added this oddity to her growing mental inventory.

The bathroom was really a powder room covered with mirrors from floor to ceiling. Who would ever want to see themselves sitting on the toilet a thousand times over? Too tacky, she thought. She put the lid down and sat on the toilet to plot her next move. This certaintly isn't the bathroom that he and Osmond where bathing in she mused. There was something about this man that got under her skin and it's just not ruggedly handsome face or quirky behaviour. She didn't believe for one minute that he was a ventriloquist. There was a dark and other worldly quality to the voices. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and notiiced that all mirrors were fogged up. Chills ran down her back as the air in the room suddenly got cold. She threw the door opened and flew out of there and plowed right into him. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him scared out of her wits. "I came to tell you to run the fan; the humidity in there is terrible." He told her matter of factly.

Cheryl almost wilted with embarrassment and was unable to say anything for a moment. With something of a shock, not entirely pleasant, she realised how close she was to Jacob, and the feel of his body against her. As she looked into his eyes, a cold feeling of horror crept over her. Her skin became clammy with cold sweat as it dawned on her that she could not feel his breath, though his face was so close to hers. She fought against a feeling of nausea that rose within her, and decided that she would ride this one out to the bitter end. With that her fear vanished, and she steeled herself as she asked him,"Are you dead?" Jacob looked at her without blinking. "No." he said, matter of factly. "Are you alive?" asked Cheryl, now more curious than apprehensive. "No." repeated Jacob. "What are you then, really?" "Neither. I do not live, though you may seem to find me alive, neither am I dead, for I was never truly alive. I am a machine."

"So the Doctors were right, after all" thought Cheryl, "Conrad Malcom Brougham had lived up to his dark promise and made his manchine."
"May I sit down for a moment?" she said.
"Sit as long as you like. You won't be leaving anytime soon, so be comfortable. Would you like some more of that?" he said pointing to her glass.
"No. I'm fine. Thank you."
Then: "And why won't I 'be leaving anytime soon'?"
"You were sent here to find me, and Connie, I assume..."
"Connie?"
"Conrad. And please, don't talk when I'm in 'explaining mode'. It makes my circuits crackle. Kind of like when you...people...what's it called...oh yeah, 'get pissed off'. So, to continue..."

"As I was saying, I assume you know Osmond was my first incarnation. All I could do back than was swim around the blow up kiddie pool to test my circuitry." He said with that far away look in his eyes.

"Thanks to Connie I am much more advanced than that now." He said flexing his right arm and marveled by his own hand. A scene of Data being tempted by the wonderfully creepy and hypnotic Borg Queen flashed through her mind.

"I still have those memories. There's nothing quite like wadding around in calming circles in the blow up kiddie pool."

Cheryl had to bite her tongue to keep from asking "Are you familiar with physical forms of pleasure?" Instead she cleared her throat and asked.

"And that's what you were doing when I knocked?"
"Yes" He answered.
"In the kiddie pool!" She asked.

Message edited on: 06/10/2005 13:06