Dawn of the Flamingo

by Joseph Goldin
Dawn of the Flamingo

“Hello, my name is Chris. I am a 38-year-old writer and I am a tall American with brown hair and brown eyes. My works are published and popular. This is my story.”

Chapter I

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Hello, my name is Chris. I am a 38-year-old writer and I am a tall American with brown hair and brown eyes. My works are published and popular. This is my story.

It all started when I walked back home from lunch. There was no home to go back to. It was stolen. Everything around the home was normal: no pulled wires, no signs of trucks, no signs anything had been destroyed. In fact, it looked exactly the same. But the most strange thing was that all of my possessions were in a pile, sorted neatly. A nice criminal, never heard of that.

Later that day I put up signs with pictures of my home in case anybody saw it. That night I slept in a hotel. Luckily, insurance would pay for the home, but it was sort of weird.

The police came over to look for evidence, but they found nothing but a pink feather. Why would anybody want to take my home, you ask? Well, because it’s the nicest home on the block. It even got featured in a magazine. It had everything somebody would want: a nice pool, a tennis court… All stolen! They could get replaced, but my dog couldn’t! She was just a babe, smaller than a little dog, but she was stolen when they stole the house.

Now I had to put up double the amount of wanted signs!

At least the milkman came, poor man, always delivering milk while doing several other jobs. He delivered milk to our family since we were kids, and he never said a single word to my parents. He was a tall man who just lost his kids so he always looked glum back then, and he is still glum right now. The only reason I think he makes money is because I pay him a little bit extra.

He called to ask where my house was, and I responded, “Stolen.” He then asked what hotel I was in, and I said which one I was in. A minute later he delivered the day’s milk. I paid him and drank the milk while I wrote my stories. I then fell asleep to awake another day.

Chapter 2

Dawn Of The Flamingo

Thinking back on that day, the most suspicious thing was a custom pickup truck. It was obviously custom and had the slogan, “Custom Trucks.” Well, that doesn’t matter, I guess. I was driving to get some coffee, when I saw one of the same trucks about 10 cars over. I tried to get to it, but the traffic was ghastly and seemed like it didn’t want me to see the license plate. But I did see; it was “2cool4sch00l.”

I then did my normal work. Maybe if I could find that license plate, I could find my house. I asked the police chief if I could look at the database of license plates, and he said, “Yes.” I looked through them and I found one that was what I was looking for, and it was located on my street! I found the house where it was. The car was there but the house wasn’t, and then I thought for a moment of another crime. I waited to see if somebody came to the car, and several people did carrying wood and cement. The person who was obviously the leader was wearing a flamingo-like dress. I remembered to make a mental image of it. I then proceeded to call the police chief and the flamingo’s phone rang. He picked up his phone and said, “Hello, Joker speaking.”

I said “Who’s Joker?”

He answered, “What goods you want? Materials, help, revenge?”

“No, it just seemed I had this number.”

“Oh, I just borrowed it for a while.”

“From who?”

“None of your business.”

*beep*

He hung up, and I looked at the news on my phone: “Local Police Chief Brutally Injured in Attack from Unknown Suspect”

Chapter 3

At least he was ok, but I thought this Joker character had done it. He had his phone, and he was most definitely a bad guy. I went to look around the neighborhood since he probably lived there.

I walked and almost immediately I heard dogs barking. I followed the noise, and it lead me to a huge house painted in an assortment of colors.

I looked through one of the windows to see Joker, but it was not Joker. It was somebody else. It was the second-in-command. I saw him and realized that he would be the chief in no time.

But then before that, I was handcuffed by two police officers. I said “I was just looking at the house!”

Then the first police officer said, “Thats what they all say.”

“But I am telling the truth!”

“Really I doubt that, you even have the air of a criminal.”

“Oh come on, do I wear a ski mask?!”

“No, but–”

“You just want to arrest me because he told you to, I’m not doing anything wrong!”

“Here, we will let you go if you don’t tell anybody about this conversation.”

I didn’t go to jail, but I realized how corrupt the police were going to be if I didn’t get Joker out of the position of chief. I then asked the in-term chief to let me look at his call logs. After about two hours I found what I was looking for. It was a call saying, “Let’s go steal some houses.” Joker was saying this to an unknown person.

Just then Joker walked into the room. “Delete the records or that pretty little face will be not so pretty anymore,” he said.

So I got rid of the police files, and he left the room. But I had the number of the person he called, so I called it.

“Hello, Family Deconstruction speaking.”

“Hey, it’s Joker. I forgot how to get to your house.”

“Oh, no problem, it’s just 12345 Nowita Place.”

“Ok, coming.”

*beep*

I went to the house, but before I got to the lawn, I felt stunned for a second. I doubled over. I looked at my leg and blood was oozing out. I then started feeling a little bit woozy then finally fainted.

Chapter 4

I woke up. I was really cold, and my leg was bandaged. I was in somebody’s cellar; there were cases of wine and they looked incredibly old, but other than that the room was sweaty and smelled like dead things.

I tried to leave the cellar only to find the door locked.

I took a crowbar that was lying there and tried to open it. The crowbar got stuck in the wood and wouldn’t come out. Then after a little bit more searching I found a relatively new axe and smashed the door open. The crowbar then dropped, smashed my foot, and left it almost broken.

I crept around, trying to find the frontdoor of the house nearby. It was a cold, windless night so I could be easily heard.

“Hello, my nosey little friend,” said Joker.

I didn’t make any noise. I saw blood coming from underneath the front door. I opened the door and Joker was there. So was a dead man.

The body was bloody and several wounds were stabbed onto it. Joker stood there with a bloody knife.

Instantly, Joker lunged at me. I caught his arm and held it firmly. We struggled for a little bit. My arm was sweaty and he was going to kill me.

I shoved Joker away and quickly rolled and found a pistol on the ground. I pointed it at Joker’s head. I started sweating. It felt like we were there for an hour.

I shot and his body lurched backwards in pain. Then he coughed up some blood and fainted.

I then saw if he had some keys and he did. I ran and ran for what seemed like an hour, trying every car on the street. I finally found his car and plugged in the engine. It took a few minutes but eventually it woke up. Then I drove, but I didn’t know where I was, so I called the chief.

*Ring*

*Ring*

“Hello, Police Chief Daniels.”

“The Second just murdered a man, 1384 Windton Ave.”

“What?! I will be there immediately!”

*beep*

Afterword

Its been two years since the incident and I have mostly forgotten it.

I walked to the cafe, ordered some coffee and left. I was walking back home from work, when I strolled through my front door, and my dog greeted me. I got a blanket and watched T.V. I switched on the news for awhile. It was just some political nonsense when suddenly some breaking news came on: “Jail Break at Local Jail. High Class Inmates Escape.”  I thought, ‘Oh that’s horrible. I better lock my doors and close my windows.’ Sort of reminded me of Joker, but nah that couldn’t be.

I went to get some ice cream. They had rounded up most of the prisoners and so the neighborhood felt somewhat safe. I ate the ice cream and went back home. Yes my home.

I sat down and fell asleep. I woke up to a text: “I’m coming.”  I got another text: “That face won’t be so pretty when I’m done with it. Say goodbye.” I looked at the news, and I had a feeling I knew what had happened. “Local Police Station Blown Up, Police Chief Dies.” Then, suddenly, I heard a knock on the door.

THE END

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