Something Different WARNING: LANGUAGE MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ANYONE WITH ANY TASTE

Before I get to the strange blog, I wanted to remind everyone to come out to the Asbury Park Convention Center, on September 20, at 7:00pm. I'll be announcing the roller derby bout, with Tricia La'Vicious, as Casey "Wolfman Smack" Bartholomew. Should be a lot of fun. Nobody makes any money at this. At least, I know I'm not being paid. But, they have informed me that I am not allowed to mention it on the radio anymore. I don't know why this is. I'm assuming there was some sort of transmission from the mother ship, or something. But, I was told I could mention it in my blog. So, come out. Ray will be there, somewhere. Maybe even Tommy G, though I have no confirmation of that.

Now, on to the odd blog. I had said a while back that I was going to start writing some different stuff. This is it. I'd love to know what you thought. I'm actually thinking of starting a website for this type of thing. But, I don't know how to do that, and computers hate me. So, that could take a little time. Until then, here's something weird. From my mind......The strange part......No.....The OTHER strange part.


THE BECOMING


BY CASEY BARTHOLOMEW




Decision time.

Jake Sullivan was standing just outside the woods that wrapped around his school. He could go through them, and be to school on time. Or, he could take the long way around, and be late. He was always late. One more time, and he was going to have to stay after school, and he hated doing that.

But, he didn't like going through the woods, because they were generally populated by homeless people who had been run out of town. They were harmless, but he still didn't like the idea of walking by the various "camps" that they had set up. It made him uncomfortable.

He took a deep breath, and stepped into the woods. It wasn't far. Maybe 300 yards. You could actually see the top of the gym as you walked through. But, it was early in the morning, and it creeped him out, a little.

He had gotten about 100 yards in, when he saw the first homeless guy wandering about. He had heard that some of them were a little crazy, and would just wander around, muttering to themselves. This guy seemed to fit the bill. He was about 50 feet off to Jake's left. He walked like a toddler. He was taking small, stomping steps, and seemed to be having trouble keeping his balance. He swung his arms wide with every step he took.

Probably drunk, Jake thought. Great.

Jake picked up the pace, and avoided looking at the homeless guy. It was no good, though. The guy had seen him, and was now heading in his direction. He didn't want to run away, because he didn't want to piss the freak off. So, he pulled a dollar out of his pocket, and had it ready to hand the guy.

The homeless guy kept coming, and was now about 20 feet away. He was ashen, and his eyes were so wide they were almost bulging out of his head.

"Morning," Jake said. "How ya' doin'?"

The guy just kept coming. He was close, now.

Jake held out the dollar.

"Here," he said. "Can I help you out a little?"

The guy walked right up to Jake, slapped his hand away, and lunged at him. Jake was too fast, and pushed the guy away.

"What the fuck!?!!" he said

He came at Jake, again.

Jake knocked him away, again, and this time he fell to the ground.

The guy didn't say anything. He just let out a loud moan.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he said. It was odd.

Jake stood there, unsure of what to do. The guy was on the ground in front of him. Jake was ready to run, when the guy suddenly bounced up, and grabbed Jake's leg, forcing him to the ground.

"Fuck!!!" Jake said.

He started wildly swinging at the freak, hoping to force him off of he legs.

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!" was all the guy would say.

Jake was desperately trying to force the guy off of him. He reached down to push his face away, and the guy bit his hand.

"SHIT!!" Jake said. He was able to force the guy off of him, and get to his feet. The guy rolled over, and pulled himself up, too. Jake started to back up, when the guy lunged at him, again. He stepped forward, and punched the guy square in the jaw, and broke it off. The guy fell back on the ground, and stared straight at Jake.

His lower jaw was laying on the ground beside him.

"What the fuck!?!!!" Jake said.

The guy started to crawl toward Jake again.

"Jesus Christ!!" he said.

He backed away, and turned and ran the rest of the way toward school. When he reached the edge of the woods, he stopped and looked behind him. The homeless guy wasn't there. He was sweating, and had a small bite on his hand.

"Son of a bitch bit me!!" he said.

His hand was bleeding, but it wasn't bad. He shook his head when he thought about it.

Had he knocked the guy's jaw off?

No, he thought. There's no way.

He tried to decide if he should call the police. He didn't want to have to deal with that. The bite wasn't that big, and he wasn't supposed to be wandering through the woods to begin with. Last year a bunch of kids got in trouble for going in, and throwing eggs at the homeless camps. It would just be a big hassle. He didn't want to have to answer a bunch of questions. So, he decided to just wash his hand off, and keep his trap shut. No need to cause a big problem.

He got into the school, and went right to the bathroom to wash his hand.

Christ, he thought. This hurts like hell!!

It was only about an inch long. The freak had just caught him on the side of the hand, before he was able to get away. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was bright red.

Great, he thought. I'm gonna get rabies from a homeless freak. Terrific.

He wrapped a paper towel around his hand, and headed to his first class. He thought about going to the nurse, to get a bandage. But, the nurse was just some old woman who volunteered her time, and they didn't always have bandages, anyway. Plus, she was kind of mean.

He got into his class, and sat down at his desk. His friend, Steve, was already there.

"Dude, what happened to your hand?" Steve asked him.

"I got bit by a homeless guy, cutting through the woods."

"He bit you!?!!"

"Yeah," Jake said. "And it hurts like hell."

"Maybe we should cut it off." Steve laughed.

"Funny."

Mrs. Wilkerson came into the class.

"Pipe down, everyone," she said. "We have a lot to cover, today."

Jake couldn't focus on anything that was going on. He eyes kept darting around the room. He was starting to sweat, and get cold, all at the same time.

Fuck!! he thought. That fucking freak gave me the flu, or something. FUCK!!

His head was starting to throb. Behind everything else that was going on, he could hear it in his head.

Boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom........

It wasn't loud, but it was constant. His forehead was starting to getting sweaty, and he ran his hand through his brown hair. He couldn't concentrate on anything that was going on. He tried to stay steady in his seat, and not let on that anything was going on. After what seemed like hours, Mrs. Wilkerson wrapped things up.

"Okay," she said. "Read chapter 14, for Wednesday, and answer the questions at the end. We'll go over all of it in class. We'll see you tomorrow."

As Jake was getting up to leave, she called him over.

"Are you feeling okay, Jake?" she asked. "You look a little pale."

"I'm okay," he said. "I think I'm just getting sick, or something. I'm fine."

"Do you want a pass to go to the nurse?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know," she said. "But, it's better than nothing."

"I'll be okay," he said.

He walked out into the hallway. His head was still throbbing. It felt like it was getting louder, and louder.

Boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom......

He went back into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, and looked in the mirror. He did look like hell. His face was getting pale. He was getting circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Shit," he said.

Jake made his way out into the hall, and headed for his next class. He was feeling dizzy, and having trouble walking. He thought about just going home. Maybe he should just call the cops, and tell them about the homeless freak. His hand hurt like hell, and his head was still throbbing.

He made it to class, and decided that he would just blow it off, and not pay any attention. It was economics. Nothing he was going to need to know. The teacher, Mr. Williams, was a blowhard. If he just kept his head down, and looked like he was taking notes, he could skate through.

One class at a time, he thought.

He took his seat, and Mr. Williams starting blathering about macro economics. Jake put his head down, and pretended to take notes. His head was killing him.

Boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom.....boom-boom....boom-boom....

He closed his eyes, and tried to shake the pain off. When he opened them, he saw Becky. He's spent countless classes thinking about things he would do to her. The thought made him smile. In real life she wouldn't give him the time of day. In his mind, though, she did unspeakable things. He smiled at the thought. She had on a short, red skirt, and a form fitting, white top. He started thinking about her.

He walked up behind her, and put his arms around her. She pressed herself back against him, and cocked her head to the side. He reached up and pulled her dark hair to the side, and began kissing her neck. She closed her eyes, and started breathing at his touch. He gently kissed his way up her neck, and stopped at her ear. He took her earlobe into his mouth, as she gently moaned. Then, he bit down on her ear, and pulled it clean off her head, as the blood started running down her neck.......

"What the fuck!?!!" Jake yelled, as he jerked up out of his seat.

The whole class looked at him.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Sullivan?" Mr. Williams asked him.

Jake looked around the room. Some people were staring at him. Others were laughing. He was breathing heavy.

"Uh....No," he said. "I..uh...fell asleep.....and....uh...."

"You fell asleep in my class," Mr. Williams said. "And, you were yelling out profanities. Why don't you come back, after school, and we'll go over everything you slept through in great detail."

"Yes, sir." he said.

The bell rang. Jake got up, and walked from class. He had P.E. next. It was your typical, public school, physical education class. The teacher was Coach Paulson. He was also the football coach, and didn't feel like taking the time to actually run the class. So, he threw a bunch of basketballs into the gym, and went back to his office. Today would be no different. Steve was in the class with him, though. So, he would be able to kick back, and try and shake whatever was wrong with him.

"Wow," Steve said. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"What the hell happened?"

"I think it was that homeless guy," Jake said. "I think he gave me something."

"Rabies," Steve said.

"It's not rabies."

"You'll go crazy. You'll eat your own tongue, and then start eating your lips." Steve laughed.

"It's not fucking rabies," Jake said.

They were sitting in the back of the gym, watching everyone throw the basketballs around. Jake could have done without the bouncing. If he'd had one, he might have taken an ice pick to his own head. About fifteen minutes before class ended, Coach Paulson came out.

"Alright boys," he said. "Hit the showers."

In the locker room, Jake couldn't even open his eyes. The pounding was louder. He closed his eyes, tighter.

Boom-boom......boom-boom......boom-boom.....boom-boom.....boom-boom.......

He took a shower, hoping that it would calm him down. But, it didn't help. The throbbing persisted. When he dried off, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was ashen. Completely pale. He wasn't sure, but he thought his brown eyes even looked lighter.

Jesus Christ, he thought.

His next class was homeroom. Then, he had lunch, and two more periods before he could get the hell out of there.

I can make it, he thought.

Homeroom was nothing. It was a chance for you to finish the homework you hadn't done the night before, or get started on the work you had already gotten, from today. The teacher didn't even talk to them. Jake put his head down on his desk, and drifted off to sleep.

His dreams were odd, though.

People swimming in pools of blood. He would reach in, but not to save them. To catch them. To have them.

In one dream, he was being followed by a large group. He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. They didn't speak. They moaned. They kept reaching out for him. He tried to get away, but he couldn't walk. He could only stumble along. He couldn't speak. He couldn't call out for help. He kept moving....slower.....They were going to catch him.

In another dream he was pulling apart a live chicken, and eating it.

In all the dreams, his face was pale. Almost with a green tint. His eyes were sunken, and gray. His lips were black. He didn't speak. He just grunted and moaned.

The bell jerked him awake.

He was breathing heavy. Lunch was finally here.

Relax, he thought. Just relax. Days almost over. You can go home, and go to bed.

He calmed himself down, and headed to the quad. Lunch times were staggered, so there wasn't much of a crowd when he got into the cafeteria line. He picked up his tray, plate, and utensils, and waited his turn.

"What'll it be, dear?" the cafeteria lady asked him.

Jake wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should eat something. So, he looked up at the menu.

"Uhhh...Just give me the spaghetti," he said.

"Okie-dokie," she said. She took her spoon, reached out, and slapped a bloody, human brain onto Jake's plate.

He jumped back, and threw his tray on the ground.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!!!!" he yelled, as he fell back, and landed on his behind.

Everything in the quad stopped. Everyone was looking at Jake, again. From his place on the ground he looked over, and saw the spaghetti noodles, laying all over the ground. He closed his eyes, and put his face in his hands. The throbbing was intense. He tried covering his ears, but it didn't do any good.

BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.......

Someone put their hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, dear?"

It was the cafeteria lady.

Her voice sounded like it was an echo. He looked at her, but couldn't focus.

"Do I fucking LOOK okay?" he snapped at her.

He got up and tried to run, but he couldn't. His legs were numb. It felt like they were both asleep. He couldn't feel his steps. He was able to get a few feet, but was going to fast and fell down. He was able to, slowly, get back up. He could feel his breathing getting heavier. He was sweating, big time. He was able to slowly walk to the bathroom.

What's happening to me? he thought.

The circles under his eyes were darker. He was as white as a ghost, and his brown eyes were gone. They were black.

He leaned back against the wall, in the bathroom.

I've got to get out of here, he thought. I've got to get home.

He thought for a moment. He couldn't remember where his house was. He closed his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair. He could see his mom. But, he couldn't see his house. He shook his head. The woman was smiling at him.

Wait, he thought. Is that my mom.

He pointed his head down, and closed his eyes tighter. The woman in his mind reached her hand up to her own throat, and dug her nails into her neck. She was still smiling as the blood poured out of her neck, and she reached her now bloody hand out, for Jake.

The bell rang.

He shook his eyes open. He was still breathing heavy. The sweat was dripping down his face. He stumbled out of the bathroom, and back into the building for his next class. It was science. Mrs. Jenkins was his teacher. She looked up at him as he came in.

"Are you okay, Jake?" she asked.

"Uh-huh," he responded, and headed for his desk.

He sat behind the lovebirds. Tricia Miller, and Mike Elliot. Tricia was the popular, pretty, stupid, cheerleader. Mike was the popular, handsome, stupid jock. Together, they were the perfect, popular, stupid couple. They knew it. Everyone knew it. It was high school politics at it's best. They were joined at the hip, and various other places, depending on who was around.

Jake took his seat, behind Tricia.

He couldn't focus on anything. The pounding was incredible.

BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM.......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......

He kept drifting in and out. He didn't even hear Mrs. Jenkins talking. The strange dreams kept coming, and he would jerk himself awake.

He opened his eyes, and looked at the back of Tricia's head. There was something under her blonde hair, on her head. He could see it. It was pulsating, and tiny drops of blood were sprinkling down on his desk.

What the hell is that? he thought. How can she NOT feel that?

He could see it, almost bouncing up and down, under her hair.

Slowly, he reached up with both hands. He grabbed each side of her hair, and pulled it apart. He found himself looking directly inside her head, and her brain was right in front of him. He pulled her hair, tighter.

Tricia screamed.

Mike jumped up, and grabbed Jake's arms. He was able to pull him off of Tricia, and throw him to the ground.

"What's your fucking problem, Sullivan?" Mike yelled at him.

Tricia was holding her head, and crying.

Jake laid on the ground. His eyes were wide.

"Answer me!!!!!" Mike yelled at him, again.

Jake started to pull himself up.

He tried to speak.

"I....I....I could see inside her head," he said. "I thought she was hurt."

"You sick freak!!!" Tricia yelled at him.

Mike walked right up to him.

"You're dead, Sullivan," he said. "After school. You and me. You are dead meat."

"Gentlemen," Mrs. Jenkins said.

The bell rang. Jake bolted toward the door.

"Mr. Sullivan, get back here," Mrs. Jenkins said. But, he was already gone.

He pushed his way through the students that were crowding the halls. His head was pounding. They were all moving in slow motion. He suddenly knew what he was hearing. It was the blood coursing through their bodies. The noise was deafening.

BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM.....BOOM-BOOM....BOOM-BOOM......BOOM-BOOM......

He went into the library. He knew no one would be in there. The school had cut so much, that they didn't even have a librarian. He pushed the door open, and stumbled to the back of the room, in between some large bookcases. He fell to the ground, and lay on his side.

The world was spinning. His head was pounding. He needed to get out of there. He was able to pull himself up onto all fours. He held himself there for a moment, and then threw up. A lot. After a moment he fell face down into it, and passed out.

The bell woke him.

He laid there, covered in his own vomit, for another 15 minutes.

Gotta get home, he thought. Gotta get home.

He pulled himself up. He had no balance. He ambled his way over to the door, and pushed his way into the hallway. He wasn't sure where he was going.

He kept stumbling down the hallway, until he heard a voice.

"SULLIVAN!!!"

It was coming from the other end of the hall. It was Mike Elliot.

He came at Jake.

"Did you think I would forget, Sullivan?" he said.

Jake just stared at him.

"Huh?' he said.

"Did you think I would forget that I was gonna kick your ass?"

Jake just shook his head.

"I....Uhhhh....." he answered slowly.

Mike pushed him, and he slammed against the wall.

"Did you think you could grab Tricia, like that, and get away with it?"

Jake didn't answer. He couldn't, anymore.

Mike slammed him against the wall, again.

"Now, you're gonna pay, you sick fuck!!" he said.

Jake just stared at him.

"What's the matter, pussy?" Mike said. "Don't you have anything to say?"

He grabbed Jake by the shirt, and held him against the wall. Jake grabbed onto his hands, leaned his head down, and bit down on his right index finger.

Mike screamed.

Jake held on as hard as he could. When Mike tried to pull back, he bit down as hard as he could until the finger came off in his mouth.

Mike screamed, again. He pushed Jake away from him, and fell down on his back.

"YOU FUCKING, SON OF A BITCH!!!" Mike yelled. "HOLY SHIT!!!!"

"YOU SICK, PIECE OF SHIT!!!"

He held onto his hand, and ran down the hall, away from Jake.

Jake stood there. He still had the finger in his mouth. The blood oozed down his mouth, to his chin, and onto his clothes. He spit the finger out, onto the floor, wiped his chin off, and licked the blood from his hand. He turned and stumbled down the hall, to the stairs, and headed down. His body moved slowly, and his walk had no balance.

"Mr. Sullivan," he heard a voice say.

It was his economics teacher, Mr. Williams.

"Did you forget that you were supposed to come see me, after school?"

Jake stared at him.

"Let's go," Mr. Williams said. He turned, walked into the classroom, and left the door open behind him.

Jake stumbled for the door. When he got into the classroom Mr. Williams was at the board.

"Have a seat," he said. "We're going to go over everything you decided to nap through during class, today."

He turned, and started writing on the board.

Jake ambled forward. He moved past the desk, and toward the teacher. When he got to him, he pushed Mr. Williams against the wall, grabbed him from behind, and dug his teeth into the side of his neck.

Mr. Williams screemed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.......JAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!"

His mouth filled with his teacher's warm blood, and he bit down harder. He felt good for the first time, all day. He pulled back, grabbed the teacher's head, and slammed it against the chalkboard, cracking open his skull. He let the body fall to the ground. Then, he bent down, and pulled the broken pieces of skull back, and started digging for the brain.

Jake Sullivan no longer existed.

For that matter neither did Mr. Williams.

About two hours later, Mike Elliot was sitting in a bed, in the emergency room. His hand was wrapped in gauze, and he had an IV attached to his arm. He was talking to the police.

"We couldn't find the finger," the officer said. "Sorry, son."

"You've gotta catch that sick bastard," Mike said. "He's nuts."

"You don't know how right you are."

"What do you mean?' Mike was starting to feel tired from the IV.

"You may have gotten off, easy," the officer said. "If we have the time right, after he....uh....bit your finger off, he went into a classroom and murdered one of your teachers. It was pretty violent, from what we could tell."

"Jesus Christ," Mike said.

"Yeah," the officer replied. "You try and get some rest. If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch."

The officer left.

Mike closed his eyes. The drugs were helping, but his hand still hurt like hell. He didn't even want to think about what this meant to his team, or his future. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. His head was throbbing.

boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom....boom-boom...............