A Bad Day for Voodoo

by Jeff Strand

  Police Officer #2: We would take you into custody immediately.

  Police Officer #1: And then we’d take you into an interrogation room and shine a bright light into your face, and one of us would pretend to be nice and the other one would pretend to be mean, and we’d ask you if you knew how much trouble you were in.

  Police Officer #2: Then we’d break your fingers, one by one, until you talked.

  Police Officer #1 [to Officer #2]: No, we wouldn’t.

  Police Officer #2: Well, don’t tell him that!

  Police Officer #1: Broken fingers or not, I assure you that if you involve your parents and the authorities, it would be extremely difficult to get permission to bring Mr. Click’s body to the voodoo shop, and you wouldn’t be able to convince us to let you drive the cab with a police escort either, because why would it be so important that you drive that specific cab? Doesn’t make sense. Not gonna happen.

  The front door of my house flew open, and Adam came running out, followed by my mom.

  “Drive! Drive! Drive!”

  CHAPTER 28

  [Email address withheld.]

  Hi, Tyler! It's your friendly editor here! I just read Chapter 28 of your book, and all I can say is, WOW!!! The whole time I was reading the book, I was thinking, “How in the world is he going to top the awesome stuff that's happened before?" but you went and did it!

  Amazing. Best car chase ever.

  Honestly, if I didn't know that this story was completely true, I'm not sure I'd believe it. You've got Adam running out of your house with your parents and two police officers following, and then right in the middle of this pulse-pounding action, there was that moment where you see the tears in your mother's eyes and...oh, the amount of emotion you packed into just twelve paragraphs was unbelievable!

  Then that whole chase, where Adam can't get into the car but jumps up onto the hood, and then your mom almost gets the back door open so you had to speed off. I kept saying out loud, “Oh my God! Oh my God!" My husband kept asking what was wrong, and I kept reading him parts of the book, and then he started saying, “Oh my God! Oh my God!" If you don't win the Pulitzer Prize for this, then the Pulitzer committee should all go drown themselves in a swimming pool with extra chlorine. That's all I've got to say about that.

  (Don't tell the Pulitzer committee I said that! LOL!)

  So then you're speeding off, and the cops rush back to their cars, and I'm thinking, “Oh, no way is Tyler ever going to get away with this! He's only sixteen! How can a sixteen-year-old beat two trained cops in a high-speed chase?" Yeah, the two cops were in the same vehicle, but still!

  Wow! Did I say wow already? Wow! The excitement! The close calls! I thought Adam was dead for sure when you rolled down the window and he had to climb in at ninety miles per hour, and then that other car almost sideswiped you guys! How close did Adam come to getting crushed between the vehicles? Inches?

  And then you swerved into the wrong lane against oncoming traffic! No, wait...that's part of my notes. I know this story is true, but it would be really cool if you swerved into the wrong lane against oncoming traffic and had to dodge a whole bunch of cars. Come on, one little exaggeration won't get you in trouble. Do it for me? Thanks! Love ya.

  The roadblock scene. I don't want to be repetitious, but wow. Wow, wow, wow. That was crazy! My favorite part was how after not using actual profanity through the whole book, you went ahead and put the s-word in there. You managed to give the s-word its power again. Amazing.

  Oh, and I loved how all of those cop cars got destroyed but no cops actually got hurt. I would have lost sympathy for you and Adam if you'd caused any police officers to die or be seriously injured. (They do have families after all). But no, it was just property destruction!

  And then...how many cop cars were chasing you guys? Eight? I was on the edge of my seat, reading that. I mean, literally on the edge of my seat. My husband kept saying, “You're going to fall off the chair if you don't scoot back a little," and I kept saying, “I can't! I can't!"

  I don't know about the part where the earth cracked open and you had to drive around the cracks. I looked it up, and apparently the earth did crack open like you said, but that's where you started to lose me a little. Maybe tone it down just a notch.

  Also, the helicopter. That part was kind of dumb.

  And there's a continuity error where you've been driving, but then suddenly Adam is driving with no explanation. Why did you guys change drivers? How did you do it when you were driving so fast? Clearly there's a logical explanation for this, but it's not in the book itself, so when I read that, I went, “Whoa! What's up with that?" and it kind of took me out of the story. Was the taxi almost out of fuel, so you had to quickly pull into a gas station, and maybe Adam scooted over into the driver's seat while you pumped the gas? Again, I don't want you to lie about anything, but gas station scene = potential for huge explosion. Think about it.

  Oh, but I did like how we then found out that Adam had told the cops where Kelley was before he ran out of your house. That was nice, because during the whole car chase, I was thinking, “This is really exciting, but they should have said something to the cops so they could send an ambulance over to help that poor girl." What if you moved that piece a little earlier? Otherwise the reader is going, “Why should I care about this awesome six- car pileup when Kelley is bleeding to death?"

  And then you turned onto Duncan Street, and your stomach started to hurt...almost like it was burning. Wow.

  That was the best final action sequence I've ever read in a book. I was stunned. If you were dangling from a cliff, and William Shakespeare was dangling from the same cliff, and I only had time to save one of you, it would be, “Sorry, Bill, looks like you're plummeting to your death!"

  Everybody in the office agreed that you deserve twice as much money for this book. Check your PayPal account!

  Anyway, the reason I'm writing is that I accidentally deleted the file with Chapter 28, and I know you'd mentioned that you were having computer problems, so hopefully you had a backup.

  Ciao!

  Love, Mindy

  [Email address withheld.]

  Dear Mindy,

  Crap.

  Sincerely, Tyler

  CHAPTER 29

  I grimaced.

  “What’s wrong?” Adam asked.

  “My stomach hurts all of a sudden.”

  “Like how? Like you ate a jalapeno?”

  “Way worse than that. It’s like a battery acid capsule just broke in there.”

  “That’s not good. So it’s an incineration-from-within kind of feeling?”

  “Yeah. Ow! Crap!My stomach is sizzling!”

  Adam floored the accelerator, driving even faster than he had when we outran all of those police cars.

  “Please hurry,” I said. “I don’t wanna burn!”

  “You’re not gonna burn. Just stay with me. Be a rock. We’re almost there. Life is good. Stay happy. Almost there. Almost there. Keep being a rock. Almost there. Damn, just passed it. Backing up.”

  He stopped the cab. We threw open the doors and hurried to the back. My stomach gave another intense jolt of pain, and I fell to my knees.

  “No! Don’t give up!” Adam shouted. “We’re almost safe! Look how close we.. .oh crap, the trunk is locked.”

  He ran back to the front of the taxi and returned a few seconds later with the keys. I managed to stand up as we unlocked the trunk, threw open the lid, and frantically pulled out Mr. Click.

  We lost our grip, and he fell onto the ground.

  There was thin white smoke in the air, which I realized was coming from my nostrils.

  “That’s not good. That’s not good, but just stay calm, stay calm,” said Adam. “Maybe they can come to us.” He rushed over to the door of the voodoo shop and turned the knob. “It’s locked! They closed on us!” He rapped on the door, then kicked it a couple of times.

  Smoke was billowing from my nostrils and my mouth. My stomach felt like
a little pyromaniac was inside there, lighting matches and giggling.

  Adam ran back to the cab, reached inside the trunk, and grabbed a tire iron.

  The smoke was starting to turn black.

  Adam shattered the front window of the store. An alarm went off.

  Esmeralda peeked her head out. I could see that she was holding my doll. “Why the hell you break window? I on my way!”

  A flame came out of one of my nostrils. It was just a tiny flame, but still, fire was never supposed to come out of your nose!

  Adam tossed Mr. Click’s doll to Esmeralda.

  Esmeralda raised both dolls into the air. “ Uiptfjo dibshf pg tvdi uijoht, dbodfm uijt tqfmm jg zpv xpvme!” (I don’t know how she pronounced the words without vowels either.)

  The smoke disappeared.

  My stomach stopped hurting.

  Mr. Click gave me one last sad look, and then he closed his eyes. “He at peace now,” said Esmeralda. “Doll’s power is gone.” She ripped off the head of my doll. “See?”

  “1.1.1.hold on a second. Let me catch my breath. Okay.no, wait, haven’t caught it yet.” I stood there for a long moment, trying to regain my composure. Adam patted me on the back. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I said.

  Esmeralda took me by the hand and stared deep into my eyes. “You have responsibility now. Serious responsibility. You tell tale of Chosen One. You write it so future generations know of glory of Adam Westell. You write it good, not mess up. Find publisher. This your destiny.”

  “I accept,” I said.

  “You no have choice, but is good that you accept.”

  “So, about the corpse,” I said. “Do you need us to take it away and figure out what to do with it, or will you take care of it?” “We handle.”

  “Thanks. Adam, any chance you could take me to the hospital?” “Sure thing.”

  CHAPTER 367

  Yeah, I’m fudging a bit on the chapter numbers, but think how impressed people will be when you tell them you’ve just finished a book with 367 chapters!

  Anyway, this is the part of the book where we wrap things up. [Denouement.] First of all, Kelley did not die. Adam’s directions were superb, and the paramedics found her down there in plenty of time to save her life. I’m not saying that they just slapped a Band-Aid on her and she was fine—there was a lengthy hospital stay involved and some rehab and a scar that I can’t convince her looks really cool—but now she’s fine.

  I, too, spent some time in the hospital. I wish I could talk about the miracles of modern science and how they synthesized replacement flesh for me, but no, I still only have eight toes, and my ear didn’t grow back. When I get bummed out about it, I remind myself that it could have been much worse.

  Kelley, Adam, and I decided that instead of getting trapped in a web of lies, we would tell the truth about everything, no matter how bizarre the truth might be. The police did not believe us. It didn’t help that Esmeralda’s House of

  Jewelry had magically covered their tracks, even repairing the broken glass, and denied all knowledge of doing business with us.

  There were investigations out the wazoo and lots of press coverage, and many experts weighed in on how a dead body could go missing from the morgue and why the security camera footage from that evening was too blurry to see and why there was no DNA evidence from our history teacher in the sewer, trunk of the taxi, or sidewalk. One expert said, “I think it is magic!” but he was not taken seriously by his colleagues.

  The dead thugs in the garage thing kept coming up, but because they didn’t believe in the voodoo doll, ultimately, the authorities decided that I was just stupid enough to risk my life to get my mom’s car back. Ribeye’s death was indeed ruled an act of cannibalism, but without a cannibal available to match the dental marks, there wasn’t much they could do.

  The Basers all went to prison, because freedom of religion does not include the right to conduct human sacrifices in your home.

  Zeke, the cabdriver, was never found. He’s probably still lurking out there. somewhere. perhaps watching you at this very moment.

  Regarding the algebra equation of how mad my parents would be, it was about two weeks of “Oh, we’re so glad to have our precious little boy back!” and then about two months of “You will suffer for the emotional trauma you inflicted upon us!” My mom did eventually get her car back, though.

  The investigation kept going on and on, but then I started noticing tall men in black suits hanging around, looking stern, and then the mayor announced that the investigation into the strange events surrounding the death of Mr. Click was being concluded and that everything had been officially ruled a tragic accident. I don’t know what that’s about.

  Adam and I are still friends. After his initial reluctance, he started to get an ego about the whole Chosen One thing, but I put a stop to that.

  Then there was an extremely awkward misunderstanding where I thought Kelley was developing a crush on him because of the whole Chosen One thing, but I had merely misinterpreted some signals, and it was all very embarrassing, and we worked it out.

  Our new history teacher, Mr. Venison, was way meaner than Mr. Click.

  And, well, I guess that’s it for now. Things have settled down, and I’m getting good grades, and I’m starting to think about college. So thanks for reading. I apologize if there were any grammar issues. I hope you liked the book, and until more weird stuff starts to happen that I need to write about, “All Hail He Who Shall Save Us from the Hobgoblins.”

  COMING SOON

  A Bad Day for Witchcraft

  A Bad Day for Sorcery

  A Bad Day for Necromancy

  A Bad Day for Hypnosis

  A Bad Day for Levitation

  A Bad Day for Astral Projection

  A Bad Day for Snake Charming

  A Bad Day for Demonic Possession

  A Bad Day for Cryogenics

  A Bad Day for Ventriloquism

  A Bad Day for Yoga

  A Bad Day for Voodoo II

  A Bad Day for Drinking Poison

  A Good Day for Dancing

  A Bad Day for Shameless Cash-Ins

  A Bad Day for Voodoo 3-D

  A Bad Day for Eating Stuff off the Ground

  A Bad Day for That Guy Who’s About to Be Hit by a Bus

  A Bad Day for Slugs

  A Bad Day for Voodoo (rewrite)

  A Bad Day for Nudity

  A Bad Day for the Olympics

  A Mediocre Day for Walking

  A Bad Day for Taxation without Representation

  A Bad Day for Lady Gaga

  A Bad Day for Voodoo II (rewrite)

  Harry Potter v. A Bad Day for Voodoo

  A Bad Day for Licorice

  A Bad Day for Taunting Llamas

  A Bad Day for Sequels

  Are you still reading?

  Ummmm.. .I’m out of story. Sorry. I assumed that everybody would have given up by now. I’ve said everything I wanted to say, and yeah, I guess I failed to fully explore a thematic element or two, but that was on purpose.

  Hmm. Maybe you have a younger brother or sister who wants to read this book, but as a responsible older sibling, you’ve said “NO!!! There’s too much blood! You’ll have nightmares!” In that case, let’s give them something they can read!

  Riddle: How do you make a voodoo doll float?

  Answer: Two scoops of ice cream, some root beer, and a voodoo doll!

  Actually, I think voodoo dolls float anyway. At least the ones made out of light fabric do. But it’s still kind of a funny riddle, right?

  Okay, look, this book wasn’t meant for your little brother or

  sister. If they’re all like “Lemme read it! Lemme read it!” tell them that they have to wait until they’re old enough to think that people losing body parts is funny, because that’s basically the whole book.

  Oh.. .one more thing. Did you leave a five-star review online to help balance out all the one-star reviews this thing is going to get?
That would be appreciated. I mean, don’t lie in your review or anything like that, but feel free to exaggerate. If you thought it was only three stars, maybe you were tired and had other things on your mind while you were reading it, and you didn’t truly appreciate every little nuance, like that part where I was talking to the Rottweiler. There is so much nuance in that scene that you wouldn’t even believe all of it if I told you.

  I’m not asking you to commit fraud on online review sites. Certainly not. I’m just saying that if you didn’t think this book deserves five stars out of five, you might have been too worried about global warming to fully concentrate.

  Your call. No pressure.

  Anyway, the book is over now. Move along. Go read A Confederacy of Dunces.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  No book is the work of just one person. You need other people to tell you which parts you messed up. So, in alphabetical order by last name, because that’s the way I roll, thank you to Tod Clark, Lynne Hansen, Leah Hultenschmidt, Adrienne Jones, Michael McBride, Jim Morey, Rick Moschgat, Shane Ryan Staley, Rhonda Wilson, and Kristin Zelazko for their sharp, cruel eyes.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jeff Strand is the author of a bunch of books. Most of them are meant to be funny. He lives in Tampa, Florida, and doesn’t believe in voodoo, though he still thinks you should carry a doll around, go up to people you don’t like, and chuckle while you jab it with pins just to make them squirm. Poke around his gleefully macabre website at www.jeffstrand.com.