Dusk 2 Dawn

Small Town

Bottles were strewn across our bedroom floor. Stanford was drooling on his desk in front of his computer. I walked over to see his head on top of nearly hundreds of papers, filled with scrambled and an ininteligible language. I could pick out phrases, something about "dream drinks" and... karaoke? He's been locked up in this room for weeks now. I've never seen him so wrapped up in his work like this. His eyes fluttered in his sleep. I bent over to move his hair away, to put a hand on his face. His stubble had become more grown out and his eye bags were much deeper. The computer flicked on and the screen went green. I walked over and the fan whirred on. Text started to type on the screen, letter by letter. "HELLO." I squinted and pushed up my round glasses. Who was Ford talking to? Suddenly my heart quickened and I felt red. Why did I feel jealous? I gently pushed Ford to the side of the desk and typed "HELLO?" The screen blinked yellow.

"SO YOU'RE FIDDLEFORD."

I stepped back as I read the message. Was this some strange joke? Ford may be... interesting- but he wouldn't do this. My curiosity got the best of me. I took a breath and typed away, "AND WHO IS THIS?" I held my breath. The fan in the computer continued to whir. The screen typed out, "A FRIEND. I'LL BE BACK LATER." The computer began to smoke and abruptly burst into flames.

Ford woke up, "Ah shit..!" With no concern for the computer, he quickly hit the flames off of his papers. We got the fire out but we were silent the whole time. Afterwards, he just stared out the window, rubbing his stubbly chin. I just want to know what goes on in that mind.

The days went on and we continued to not speak. It was some kind of unwritten agreement between the two of us. I would return back to see post it's and drawings sprawled out on the floor. He was unreachable. I tried to get him to get a beer like old times, or to sing with me while I strummed the banjo. He always said no. Constantly, I found him drunken or... erratic. His eyes were so strange. He never smiled like that. Something was wrong but I couldn't do anything.

On one of the few nights where he actually slept, I looked through his notebooks for some kind of contact to family. Maybe if he saw an old face it would get better. Ford seldom spoke about his twin brother Stanley. Besides them being twins, I knew nothing. Although, he mentioned a boat they had made once. After hours of searching I found a number that looked hastily written. Next to it was "Stanley." When I thought about it, we were so close, but he would never let me in to his past. I looked back at the number. I went out in the rain to the pay phone in our dorm.

I dialed the number and waited as it rang. It picked up and I heard gruff coughing. A gravely voice over the phone said, "I said I'm not paying you shit you son of a-" Slightly startled by the sudden aggression I began to apologize, "I'm sorry is this Stanley Pines? I wanted to talk about your brother, Stanford." The phone was silent. All I heard was breathing, then, "Is he ok?" I rubbed my face and said "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." He stopped breathing, "I knew he'd get hurt doing some crazy experim-" I cut him off, "No no no no, he's alive. I apologize I should've err been more clear.."

"Jesus Christ," the man sighed, then chuckled to himself.

"Oh uh, I'm Fiddleford Mcgucket. I'm Ford's roomate at Backupsmore. He's been... very involved in a study. But I fear he will drive himself insane. I'm sorry but I didn't know who else to call. I just want to help him."

He asked me to meet him at a diner. It was an hour away but I was getting desperate.