Tracy S. Morris

Quirky Mysteries, Screwball Fantasy and Sassy History

Words on a Wednesday: In Which Dr. Dave has a problem.

Written By: Tracy - Dec• 15•10

Another short excerpt from the book. Things are going well, but I think that I may need to sit down and plot out a map of the old resort and town just so that I don’t run into the same problem that I had with Bride of Tranquility of moving walls and rooms.


Average sat on a rock next to Dr. Dave.  The Doc had that same far-away look on his face that he seemed to be getting whenever he was near his ex. She shuddered at the murderous impulses she sensed coming from him.

            “Doc?” She touched his shoulder. Dr. Dave blinked twice and then looked around in confusion.  “Doc? Would you care to rejoin the rest of the world?”

            Dr. Dave blushed.  “I’m okay,” he said. “I was just daydreaming.”

            “Felt to me more like you were plotting murder.” Average said.  Dr. Dave’s face turned white at that.  “I was joking, Doc.” She added.

            He put his face in his hands. “Sorry. I’m not really comfortable with the idea that I’d like a giant catfish to eat my ex fiancée like some kind of B-Movie extra in a Spielberg summer blockbuster.”

            “Everyone has fantasies that they don’t talk about,” Average said. “It’s a safety valve.  You can fantasize about your ex being killed by a giant catfish, so that you don’t do anything to her that you regret.”  She bit her lip.  “You’re not thinking about doing something you would regret, are you Doc?”

            “What?” Dr. Dave shook his head.  “No!  That’s . . . No.”

            “Okay. Just making sure.” Average put her hands up, palms outward.  “I’m an empath, not a mind reader. You’ve just got a lot of scary feelings running around in that chest of yours.”

            “I’ll try to keep them under control.” Dr. Dave squinted at his ex.  “Hey, Av?  Does Jodi look like someone you know?”

            Average tilted her head to the side in thought.  “She kind of reminds me of Meg Ryan or maybe Reese Whitherspoon.”

            “Not Sharon Stone, though?” He sounded hopeful.

             “I suppose as the new girlfriend I should be more jealous.  But she seems so cute and harmless.” Average said.

            “So it’s just me, then.” Dr. Dave sighed.  “Maybe I should invest in some therapy.”

            “She is your ex,” Average said. “I wouldn’t worry unless you start fantasizing a more direct role in her death.”

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