Bluehound
03-01-2011, 07:05 AM
Frank caught a glimpse of himself in the gleaming car window; he had his head to one side like a confused puppy, so he straightened up and reached for a pen.
A sign in the window read "495" in big red letters , there was a smaller mobile phone number bellow it carefully rendered in black ink.
"495" he said out loud to no one in particular "that can't be right?"
It did seem too good to be true. Frank was looking for a used car and was expecting to have to pay more than that for some old rust bucket, this car looked good. There had to be something wrong with it, the outside finish was fantastic so it must be something dodgy underneath. Oh well it wouldn't hurt to give them a ring. Chances were they had missed a number off, could he still make them sell it to him for that price? He had heard you could do that in a shop - but it might be an urban myth. Then he smiled to him self, he knew damn well he was too nice to pull a stunt like that.
Plus he only needed it to last for a few months. He was intending to go travelling soon anyway; there was nothing around here for him anymore. All of his friends had drifted off one by one in the past couple of months, and he was starting to feel like the last man standing in a ghost town. With one final look to check the mobile number he turned and headed for home.
As the kettle boiled he fished the scrap of paper from his pocket and carefully dialled the number. At first there was a long pause, just as he was starting to wonder if he had entered it correctly there was a strange noise. It was something like the sounds of a fax coming through, strange squelchy computer talk that wouldn't normally mean anything to the human ear. But for some reason this noise made the hair on the back of Franks neck stand up , he could feel his nipples harden and his stomach clench, and for a fraction of a second he felt like he could understand the sound, it was trying to tell him something. Then the moment was gone, now the noise was just irritating and more importantly meant no cheap flashy motor.
"Nuts !". He put the phone down and carried on making a cupper.
It was a week later when he saw the second one, just a shiny as the first and just as cheaply priced. "505" this time, in the same big red letters, with a mobile written in black underneath. Maybe the price of cars has just gone down he mused, even though he had been to see a couple of over priced mobile death traps during the week. Again he wrote down the number and tucked it into his pocket. Then he carried on to meet Tom at the Two Feathers for a pint.
Predictably "a pint" turned into three or four that night so it wasn't until the next morning, and with a bit of a sore head that Frank came to dial the number of the new car he had seen. Again he was sure there had been some sort of error in the price on the sign and was rehearsing a bargaining strategy in his sleepyhead when he heard that noise again. His whole nervous system seemed to react and he felt suddenly awake as his blood was flooded with adrenalin. But just like the first time this tautening of his senses only lasted a short while before the noise became an irritant and so he hit the button to cut it off. "That was weird", maybe there is something wrong with my phone line he wondered. He picked up the phone and hit last number redial expecting to hear the strange noise again. But this time after the pause a computerised female voice informed him that "This number is no longer in use". Very odd.
Frank decided it was time to buy a new mobile. The house phone seemed to be playing up and it had been a while since that weird girl from the bookies had been stalking him, she was the reason he got rid of the last one. He was on his way into town when Tom marched past him without so much as a nod, Frank turned to watch him go down the street and shouted "Don't think I have forgotten you owe me a pint!" he expected to at least see a little chuckle if nothing else, but his friend just kept moving left, right, left, right like a tin soldier.
Coming home on the bus the next day Frank saw another of the cars parked by the side of the road, so he jumped off at the next stop and walked back to it. This one was a bit more pricey "1005" it said, but it was a thing of beauty and well worth that price. He pulled out his shiny new mobile and tapped in the number; as he pressed send a strange thrill went through him. He realised that it was anticipation of hearing the noise and the adrenalin boost it gave him that he wanted, even more than the prospect of acquiring a new car.
He wasn't to be disappointed. First the pause then the computerised sound came, this time he held on as long as he could feeling his body infuse with endorphins. But eventually it became too much and he took the phone away from his ear. But then he regretted doing so almost immediately and quickly redialled only to find that the number was now no longer in use.
"Balls !".
What the hell was going on?
Frank went home but he couldn't settle, he tried to do other things but he kept thinking of the noise and the hit it gave him. He had to find another one. The urge became so strong that eventually he went out and caught a bus; he roamed the town for hours hoping to spot a shiny car with big red numbers in the window. He found one car for sale but it wasn't one of the special ones, he had to apologise to a lady he woke in the middle of the night after he had dialled her number. This was madness he had work in the morning and, afraid he was starting to act like a crazy drug addict, he dragged himself home.
It was a few days later when he came back from work to find a car parked outside his house. The big red letters said "995" and as he read them his mouth went dry. He knew this was his number; this was the one he had been looking for, he should have realised that they came to you.
He dialled and with a feeling like deja vu he began to fit the pieces together, his friends had not left they had been recruited. Now it was his turn. As the noise began his back flexed then locked ram rod straight, his shoulders went back and his chest puffed out. He snapped to attention as the sound brought him out of his hibernating state.
This time the micro chip in his brain was flooded with information, text, instructions and diagrams.
Finally he knew what he had to do. He understood.
Frank went into the house.
Frank loaded his gun.
A sign in the window read "495" in big red letters , there was a smaller mobile phone number bellow it carefully rendered in black ink.
"495" he said out loud to no one in particular "that can't be right?"
It did seem too good to be true. Frank was looking for a used car and was expecting to have to pay more than that for some old rust bucket, this car looked good. There had to be something wrong with it, the outside finish was fantastic so it must be something dodgy underneath. Oh well it wouldn't hurt to give them a ring. Chances were they had missed a number off, could he still make them sell it to him for that price? He had heard you could do that in a shop - but it might be an urban myth. Then he smiled to him self, he knew damn well he was too nice to pull a stunt like that.
Plus he only needed it to last for a few months. He was intending to go travelling soon anyway; there was nothing around here for him anymore. All of his friends had drifted off one by one in the past couple of months, and he was starting to feel like the last man standing in a ghost town. With one final look to check the mobile number he turned and headed for home.
As the kettle boiled he fished the scrap of paper from his pocket and carefully dialled the number. At first there was a long pause, just as he was starting to wonder if he had entered it correctly there was a strange noise. It was something like the sounds of a fax coming through, strange squelchy computer talk that wouldn't normally mean anything to the human ear. But for some reason this noise made the hair on the back of Franks neck stand up , he could feel his nipples harden and his stomach clench, and for a fraction of a second he felt like he could understand the sound, it was trying to tell him something. Then the moment was gone, now the noise was just irritating and more importantly meant no cheap flashy motor.
"Nuts !". He put the phone down and carried on making a cupper.
It was a week later when he saw the second one, just a shiny as the first and just as cheaply priced. "505" this time, in the same big red letters, with a mobile written in black underneath. Maybe the price of cars has just gone down he mused, even though he had been to see a couple of over priced mobile death traps during the week. Again he wrote down the number and tucked it into his pocket. Then he carried on to meet Tom at the Two Feathers for a pint.
Predictably "a pint" turned into three or four that night so it wasn't until the next morning, and with a bit of a sore head that Frank came to dial the number of the new car he had seen. Again he was sure there had been some sort of error in the price on the sign and was rehearsing a bargaining strategy in his sleepyhead when he heard that noise again. His whole nervous system seemed to react and he felt suddenly awake as his blood was flooded with adrenalin. But just like the first time this tautening of his senses only lasted a short while before the noise became an irritant and so he hit the button to cut it off. "That was weird", maybe there is something wrong with my phone line he wondered. He picked up the phone and hit last number redial expecting to hear the strange noise again. But this time after the pause a computerised female voice informed him that "This number is no longer in use". Very odd.
Frank decided it was time to buy a new mobile. The house phone seemed to be playing up and it had been a while since that weird girl from the bookies had been stalking him, she was the reason he got rid of the last one. He was on his way into town when Tom marched past him without so much as a nod, Frank turned to watch him go down the street and shouted "Don't think I have forgotten you owe me a pint!" he expected to at least see a little chuckle if nothing else, but his friend just kept moving left, right, left, right like a tin soldier.
Coming home on the bus the next day Frank saw another of the cars parked by the side of the road, so he jumped off at the next stop and walked back to it. This one was a bit more pricey "1005" it said, but it was a thing of beauty and well worth that price. He pulled out his shiny new mobile and tapped in the number; as he pressed send a strange thrill went through him. He realised that it was anticipation of hearing the noise and the adrenalin boost it gave him that he wanted, even more than the prospect of acquiring a new car.
He wasn't to be disappointed. First the pause then the computerised sound came, this time he held on as long as he could feeling his body infuse with endorphins. But eventually it became too much and he took the phone away from his ear. But then he regretted doing so almost immediately and quickly redialled only to find that the number was now no longer in use.
"Balls !".
What the hell was going on?
Frank went home but he couldn't settle, he tried to do other things but he kept thinking of the noise and the hit it gave him. He had to find another one. The urge became so strong that eventually he went out and caught a bus; he roamed the town for hours hoping to spot a shiny car with big red numbers in the window. He found one car for sale but it wasn't one of the special ones, he had to apologise to a lady he woke in the middle of the night after he had dialled her number. This was madness he had work in the morning and, afraid he was starting to act like a crazy drug addict, he dragged himself home.
It was a few days later when he came back from work to find a car parked outside his house. The big red letters said "995" and as he read them his mouth went dry. He knew this was his number; this was the one he had been looking for, he should have realised that they came to you.
He dialled and with a feeling like deja vu he began to fit the pieces together, his friends had not left they had been recruited. Now it was his turn. As the noise began his back flexed then locked ram rod straight, his shoulders went back and his chest puffed out. He snapped to attention as the sound brought him out of his hibernating state.
This time the micro chip in his brain was flooded with information, text, instructions and diagrams.
Finally he knew what he had to do. He understood.
Frank went into the house.
Frank loaded his gun.